


All Your Dreams Are On Their Way

by 1Diamondinthesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avengers references, But with a happy ending, Deaf Character, Eventual Smut, First Aid, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I took creative license with the timeline, I'll tag the smut as, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Past Character Death, Photographer Harry, Resorts, Romance, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suspense, Travel, Twitter, Writer Louis, Writer Zayn, awakening to d/s desires, brief danger involving a minor, fantasies involving breath play, gratuitous 90s and 2000s music references, inaccuracies about the Caribbean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 73,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Diamondinthesun/pseuds/1Diamondinthesun
Summary: “This is a real place,” Louis said in wonder.“Yes, it is.”“We’re at a fancy resort on an island.”“Correct,” Zayn said with a growing smile.“We need to make a pact right now to never get swept up into a dance-off with Patrick Swayze a la Dirty Dancing,” Louis warned faintly, craning his neck up to look at the Welcome Pavilion. “And no summer romance, period.”Zayn shrugged and nodded easily. “Deal. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to meet the loves of our lives on a random Caribbean island.”Or, Louis Tomlinson is a grieving author with a deadline. Harry Styles is afraid to realize his potential. The Caribbean is the perfect place to dream bigger. Featuring cocktails, imposter syndrome, and a race-against-the-clock rescue under a starry St. Lucia sky.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to take a moment to thank my britpicker @runaway-train-works for helping this fic come together. Thank you also to the lovely mods who organized this exchange. 
> 
> Most importantly, I'd like to dedicate this fic to you, the reader. Thank you for your kindness and support! I've had a difficult year away from writing, so when I sat down to write this fic, my goal was to somehow thank you for your encouragement over the years. I wouldn't have the confidence to put my writing out there if it wasn't for you. Thank you, truly! Lots of love xx
> 
> Title is from "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon and Garfunkel.

I.

The scariest moment is just before you start.

\--Stephen King

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Louis clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, refusing to look at the source of his current torment: a large clock on the wall opposite the table where he sat waiting. Where he had been waiting for fifteen minutes, because Zayn insisted this cafe had the best coffee and strawberry muffin in their neighborhood.

Zayn was late.

Louis sighed and checked his phone for the tenth time since a waitress led him to this table. She had smiled kindly, introduced herself as Beth, and taken Louis’ coffee order. (Vanilla latte, no sugar.) Louis suspected the grimace on his face when she mentioned the sunny weather was enough to send her scurrying away.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Louis was surprised to find for once that he had no new messages. He was used to late night musings from Zayn (“What if Earth is just the size of a snowglobe in an alien child’s hand?”), kind but firm reminders about upcoming deadlines from his other best friend and manager, Liam, and silly messages from his siblings at all hours of the day and night. Lately, his sister Phoebe had taken to texting him for help decoding the body language of her crush. Lottie chatted often, sometimes threatening to sign him up for a dating service, but mostly just checking on him. His sisters and brother were close, but even closer now after the blow of their mother’s death. They were a lifeline to Louis, no question. But today, they were unusually quiet. Louis would think they were up to something, if he could focus on anything but the insisting noise from the clock.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Beth the waitress returned with a timid smile bearing a cup of coffee, and Louis let his jaw unclench long enough to smile and murmur thank you. Beth was staring at him curiously, like she was trying to place him from somewhere in her memory. And no, that was not something Louis had the patience for today.

Louis took a sip of coffee and vowed he would give Zayn five more minutes. That was all. Surely there was something new on Netflix this week, or a book to read, or any number of things to help him procrastinate.

In desperation, Louis turned to his Twitter feed. He checked his mentions, noting as usual a mixture of praise and criticism (not the constructive kind.) Louis had grown a thick skin over the past few years, largely due to the support of his friends and family. He had learned, in the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, not to allow anyone to tell him no who didn’t have the power to say yes. He knew how to stand up for himself. And most importantly, he knew the value of being self-sufficient.

Louis’ eyes strayed to the clock finally, his mind made up on leaving, when a little bell over the door chimed, signaling someone’s arrival. He heard a murmur of voices, and turned with amusement to watch Zayn removing a pair of sunglasses in the doorway. He tucked them into the collar of his band tee, a faded tribute to Nirvana. His denim jacket was covered with vintage patches and some of his own artwork. Zayn scanned the room, his honey-brown eyes skimming right over the other onlookers in the cafe, and settled on Louis. Louis raised his eyebrows in expectation, and Zayn cracked the hint of a smile. Zayn liked to joke he would never get out of bed before noon with anything resembling a smile. Not until he’d had his coffee, read his most recently penned words, and taken a scalding shower.

Louis watched with fond exasperation as his best friend since childhood wove gracefully between tables and passed a starstruck Beth on his way to Louis’ table. Zayn slid into a chair across from Louis and set his phone on the gingham tablecloth. After a moment, the customers in the cafe slowly turned back to their companions and meals, and conversation resumed as normal.

Zayn looked up with a guilty smile. “Been waiting long, Lou?”

“Ages,” Louis sighed, shaking his head.

“Surprised you didn’t yank that clock off the wall and smash it.”

Louis finally smiled. “Didn’t think I could get away with doing that again.”

“Liam would be appalled,” Zayn grinned. “He’d make that face, you know?”

“Ah,” Louis nodded, “the ‘I’m not angry; I’m just disappointed’ face. I know it well.”

“You’ve been on fairly good behavior recently,” Zayn commented. “Which only makes me think you’re up to something.”

Louis frowned. “Me? Come on.”

“Yes, you,” Zayn said, propping his chin on his hand and assessing Louis with a calculating stare.

Louis sighed again. “Like I have the time and energy to get in trouble, Zayn.” Louis ran a hand down his face and shook his head.

“Deadline?” Zayn guessed, blinking slowly as he watched Louis.

“Yep.”

“I thought you were working on that,” Zayn said with the hint of a frown.

Louis pursed his lips in annoyance. “I was.”

“And?”

“I’ve just been really busy, you know? Family, work, more work...when I finally have time to write, I’m exhausted. I just have a lot of...I’m very…”

“Fucked?” Zayn replied with a knowing smile.

Louis buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh god, I am. Totally fucked, Zayn.”

Zayn hummed sympathetically. There was a beat of silence, and when Louis finally looked back up, he found Zayn scrolling through his phone, immersed in whatever was on the screen.

“I can see you’re really empathetic for me, Zayn.”

Zayn glanced at Louis, then returned his gaze to his phone. “I am.”

“Then what are you doing while I’m having a quarter life crisis?” Louis griped. “Cyber-stalking Gregson?”

Zayn scoffed, never looking up from his phone. “ _Tyler_ and I are colleagues, Lou. As you know.”

“What’s his poem of the day?” Louis asked, as he had asked every day since Zayn admitted he had a crush on his fellow poet.

Zayn navigated to what Louis suspected was the poet’s Tumblr, then read,

“Where we both come from

Never mattered half as much

As where we’re heading.”

Zayn looked up with a pointed stare. “He’s an artist. As I’ve told you.”

“So are you,” Louis said with a small smile. “As I’ve told _you.”_

Zayn rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“So,” Louis mused, downing his cooling coffee in two gulps, “you said you wanted to talk about something?”

Zayn bit his lip and avoided making eye contact for a moment. It was a tell. Louis knew that Zayn needed a little time to sort out his thoughts, especially when they involved asking Louis to do something.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Before Louis could plot how best to break the clock, Zayn spoke.

“Tell me something, Lou. When was the last time you took a break?”

Louis frowned at the unexpected question. “Break? What do you mean?” he asked with a confused smile. “I’m a procrastinator. I take breaks all the time. Then I get writers’ block. That’s the problem.”

“Yeah, but like,” Zayn pressed on, glancing up to meet Louis’ eyes. “I mean like a break. As in, pack a bag, grab your passport, and get out of town break.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you kidding? I can’t just pack up and leave--”

“I am.”

Louis’ eyes widened as he studied Zayn’s suddenly serious expression. “What...where are you going?” he asked incredulously.

“The Caribbean. How do you feel about Caribbean beaches?” Zayn asked.

“I...have honestly never thought about them. Why?” Louis asked with growing suspicion.

“I just,” Zayn hedged, “London is wearing me down. I really need to get out of here for a while. And I want you to go with me.”

Louis was speechless.

“Will you at least think about it? Please?”

And Jesus, Zayn only said please when he was totally serious.

“When...and I’m not saying yes here, but when would you go?” Louis asked.

“Next week.”

Louis was fairly certain his eyes were popping out of his head. “What?!”

Zayn glanced around the diner a little self-consciously. “You heard me.”

Louis slumped back in his chair, unable to process what he was hearing. “Zayn...why?”

Zayn finally quirked a smile. “Because if I have to suffer at an all-inclusive resort under the scorching sun, so do you.”

“Did you say resort?” Louis gasped in betrayal. “Like, with people?”

“Yes, with people,” Zayn huffed. “Honestly, Lou, you’re becoming kind of antisocial.”

“But why? Why are you thinking of going now?” Louis asked.

Zayn’s smile widened. “Think of it as a career solution. I’m doing you a favor. I’m gonna park you on a lounge chair with a margarita, and we’re going to finally be productive.”

“You mean…”

“It’s a writing marathon, Louis. Two weeks, some peace and quiet, and the follow-up novel Liam has been bugging you about,” Zayn said with a nod of finality.

“I can’t write a novel in two weeks,” Louis challenged.

“Maybe not, but you can start one,” Zayn replied. “You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. A little sand and sun, and you’ll have inspiration for years to come. Thank me later.”

Louis watched in amazement as Zayn smiled triumphantly. “I’ll be sure _not_ to do that,” Louis said faintly, dread creeping up on him. The cafe suddenly felt claustrophobic, and Louis’ pulse quickened. Images of a bustling resort, overpriced cocktails, and sunburn flooded his mind.

At least there was one person who could talk Louis out of this.

“He’s lost his damn mind, Liam,” Louis said sharply into the phone as he entered his flat and closed the door a little harder than necessary. He kicked off his shoes and walked into his kitchen to brew (another) pot of coffee.

There was a thoughtful hum over the phone, and then Liam spoke. “Okay, tell me again. What exactly is the point of this trip?”

Louis laughed bitterly. “That’s the thing, Liam. There _is_ no point. Other than torturing me.”

Louis scooped out four generous spoonfuls of coffee grounds and poured them into the filter. His hands shook a little as he closed the lid of the coffeemaker, and he turned on his heel to grab a pack of cigarettes.

“What exactly did he say, Lou?” Liam asked.

Louis sighed for the tenth time that day. “I don’t know, Li, something about feeling trapped in London and needing a break, and I don’t know what else. As if I have time to just pack up and leave my family and job for a holiday!”

“I thought you hated your job.”

“I do!” Louis exclaimed, storming to the balcony with a cigarette in his mouth. “99% of the time.”

“And would that be 99% of the time, or the people?” Liam asked. Louis swore he could practically see Liam smirking down the phone.

“So what, I hate everyone,” Louis muttered, lighting his cigarette and looking down over the communal garden.

“I’m noticing a trend here, mate.”

“What are you saying, Liam?”

This time it was Liam who sighed. “That maybe a holiday would be good for you.”

“Are you...Liam, you’ve got to be…”

“Kidding? No,” Liam said with conviction. “Get out of here for awhile. Stop barricading yourself up in your flat, staring at a blank screen all day. It’s not helping anything.”

“But Liam--”

“And if you’re worried about the kids, bring them along. We both know you can afford it.”

“Okay, but--”

“No buts, Lou. As your manager, I’m ordering you to take a holiday. I’ll give you an extra week on your deadline if you do. And as your friend, I’m telling you to have a good time.”

Louis sighed in defeat. “Liam. What if it doesn’t help, and I still can’t write the book?”

“Then you’ve only wasted two weeks. Leave the bureaucracy to me. Oh, and Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“Quit your damn job.”

Liam ended the call with a neat click, and the line went dead. Louis stared wide-eyed at his phone, then took a long drag from his cigarette. He stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray, faintly shaking his head. Then he went inside to make an even less pleasant call.

Louis had applied for part time job at a local craft store with the intention of getting out of his flat a few days a week. As Liam said, Louis wasn’t hurting for money; if he was honest, Louis knew he needed to stay busy and not dwell on the past. It sounded good in theory, anyway.

Unfortunately, the owner of the Kraft Lady store, who unironically went by Krafty Kathy, was a tyrant in a khaki apron. Like many people, she had heard of Louis’ work, but unlike most people, she couldn’t have cared less. In Kathy’s eyes, framed by pink winged glasses, Louis was just another slacker who couldn’t organize a yarn display correctly.

It was hard to tell who was more relieved when Louis called Kathy that afternoon to put in his two weeks’ notice. Kathy actually suggested he quit that day, effective immediately, and to return his Kraft Lady apron within a week.

Louis would have relished writing a letter of resignation for that job, but apparently his presence wasn’t valuable enough to warrant one. He simply bid Kathy goodbye, hung up the phone, and then faceplanted onto the fluffy duvet on his bed.

This trip was apparently happening. But that didn’t mean Louis had to like it.

When he got his first book deal, Louis’ family and friends liked to joke he would become the next J. K. Rowling. His debut book, a young adult adventure novel called _Home,_ had garnered unexpected success (according to Louis, anyway). His support system had never wavered in their belief that Louis was going to be famous one day, especially his mother, Jay. Louis was her firstborn of seven children, and to him, Jay was a superhero. When he called to tell her he had been signed to Hachette Livre, Louis and Jay had both cried over the phone. While the recognition from a major publisher was validating for Louis, who had fought tooth and nail for _Home_ to be published, the pride in his mother’s voice made all the late nights worth it. For years, she had referred to Louis as “my son, the writer,” even when he had no prospects. But when his novel was finally noticed, she proudly introduced him as “my son, the published author.” What a difference it made to Louis. No sooner had he named his best friend, Liam, as manager, that the calls began coming in for interviews on radio and TV. Louis had no prior media training, so the first few interviews were, in Liam’s words, “a disaster of epic proportions”. Yet the critics were noticing him (mixed reviews, but Louis couldn’t care less), his Twitter account suddenly had 20,000 followers, and Louis helped pay off Jay’s mortgage. The very best thing, though, was when young people stopped Louis on the street or in restaurants to talk about his book. Some shyly asked for photos or autographs, and some gushed about how much they loved _Home._ Louis felt like he was living in a dream.

Of course, that was when reality began poking holes in Louis’ fantasies. His sister, Lottie, lost her place in cosmetology school and had to move back home. Fans and critics began closing in, demanding another book like _Home._ And after a routine doctor’s appointment with Jay, Louis added some new words to his vocabulary: _chemotherapy, malignant, metastasis_. The news of Jay’s cancer diagnosis felt like the ground opening beneath the tight-knit family’s feet. Louis turned off his Twitter notifications, canceled his new press tour, and spent long nights at Jay’s side after her chemo treatments reading forums written by cancer survivors on what helped them cope.

Louis learned to frame time differently. Instead of weekends out with friends, Louis spent those days watching rom coms on the couch with Jay, sharing bananas when she could stand to eat. Allotted sick days were for shifts supervising the younger children or Jay, with the help of Lottie. Holidays were for dim lights, low noise, and gentle hugs. Birthdays were for making videos with Jay reading _The Velveteen Rabbit_ to the youngest kids. And weekdays were for journaling and learning to cry quietly in a nearby room.

Some things didn’t change. Jay was still a superhero--exhausted, yet optimistic. Louis’ siblings became closer than ever. Liam and Zayn were still the support system Louis didn’t think he needed. And Louis continued to write. Sometimes the words just spilled out of him. He wrote all the memories he could remember into his journal. Jay was his hero for a reason, after all. She raised Louis and his siblings on her own in a modest home, yet Louis had grown up ingrained with concepts like _fun, imagination,_ and _possibilities._ Life wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful just the same. And that was all down to Jay. So Louis wrote, sometimes contently, sometimes feverishly, everything he could remember, as if the act of storytelling could somehow tether Jay to the earth. When it couldn’t, Louis quietly placed the journal in a drawer, intending to never let it see the light of day again.

Louis, at the age of 27, had a few regrets in life. He regretted not attending his high school reunion. Occasionally, he regretted firing back sassy replies to critics on Twitter. (Only occasionally, though.) And he definitely regretted writing poems about his crush, Sam Yates, in the back of his maths notebook where everyone could (and did) eventually see it. Louis still cringed about it to this day. But maybe most importantly, Louis regretted working too much instead of having some fun. He was finishing his 20s a singly, grouchy workaholic. Louis spent as much time with his family as he could, of course, but he grudgingly admitted after calling Krafty Kathy that day that he didn’t take much time for himself.

Unsurprisingly, all his siblings were on board for Louis to take a holiday, with the exception of Felicite, who was currently studying in Florence. That night at dinner, which was Thursday pizza night, the younger ones crowded around with wide eyes asking if there was a beach, and a sea, and possibly sharks where Louis was going. The older girls, especially Lottie, rolled their eyes good naturedly and teased Louis about his pale skin.

“You’ll burn on the first day. Probably the first hour,” Lottie predicted with a wry smile.

“You’ll have jet lag and fall asleep on the lounge chair!” Phoebe giggled. Louis reached out to tickle her, and Phoebe made a loud squawk that sent the younger kids into fits of laughter.

“Or maybe I’ll swim in the sea, battle a shark, and eat all the junk food I want,” Louis replied.

“No healthy food?” Daisy asked with round eyes. Her vegan diet wasn’t working quite as planned.

“No bedtime?” little Doris asked, staring at Louis starry-eyed. “No rules?”

“Well, there’s one rule,” Louis conceded, scooping Doris up in his lap. “Very serious.”

“What is it?” Doris and her twin, Ernest, asked in unison.

Louis quirked a smile and leaned closer to whisper to them. “I have to do homework.”

The younger kids gasped, and Lottie snickered.

“What homework?” Phoebe asked with a slight frown. “You’re a grown up.”

Louis winked at her. “I have to write another book.”

As predicted, there was a shocked silence for a moment. And then…

“A book!”

“What kind of book, Lou?”

“Louis’ writing a book!”

“Can I read it?”

Louis laughed and nodded. “Of course. When it’s all finished, you can.”

Daisy reached for her phone. “Can I tweet it?” she asked excitedly.

Louis hummed in response. “Well, how about we wait? Just to make sure I still remember how to write, you know?”

Daisy rolled her eyes but smiled. “Okay. I mean, you are getting kind of old.”

“Daisy!” Lottie exclaimed, giving her a stern look.

Louis just laughed and hugged his siblings close. “She’s not wrong.”

Lottie tsked over her pizza. “Okay, on one condition.”

Louis raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Don’t work too hard. And bring us presents.”

Louis shook his head fondly, but couldn’t stop his smile growing. “Deal.”

Louis’ final text that night was to Zayn, a little before midnight. Louis knew he would still be awake, since Zayn got his best work done late at night. Louis typed out a message, then stood out on his balcony for one last smoke. He stared up at the stars, which were unusually visible, and imagined what it would be like to really get away for awhile.

 _I’m still in if you are,_ Louis had texted Zayn.

While he waited for a response, Louis thought back on past holidays he had taken. They had all been exciting, and loud, and full of love with his family. And while he certainly loved Zayn as a friend, and knew they would have fun, it would be a little weird going on a holiday practically alone. A ding on Louis’ phone signaled a reply from Zayn.

_Great, Lou. I’m all in._

Louis took a deep breath to mentally prepare himself for the kind of social commitment he had been avoiding for some time, then went inside and headed straight to bed.

Over the next few days, Louis learned that leaving--going somewhere far away--happens in stages. On Saturday, he washed all his laundry and dug out what he hoped was a decent pair of swimming trunks. Sunday, he cleaned out his refrigerator and pantry, then somehow found himself actually cleaning the fridge itself. Like, with Flash and everything.

Monday, Louis packed a bag. It didn’t really sink in that he was truly leaving until he folded (sort of) his favorite tee shirts and warm-weather clothes into a suitcase. Tuesday, Louis tidied up the rest of his flat to a playlist of his favorite 90s and early 2000s music. It wasn’t until Wednesday, when he was hunting down a pair of flip flops he knew he had stashed somewhere, that Louis realized he did not, in fact, know where Zayn was taking him.

This was problematic. Louis was a details person. He needed to know these things before he jumped on a plane, right? Zayn hadn’t actually told him the name of the resort they would visit, or even the name of the island for that matter.

Louis cursed aloud to no one in particular, then called Zayn. He answered on the last possible ring.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts, Lou,” Zayn warned by way of greeting.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Sunshine,” Louis replied tartly. “You forgot one major detail, Z.”

“Hmm? Which detail is that?”

“Where the hell we’re actually going.”

There was a long pause over the line, during which Louis pictured Zayn reclining on his couch and smoking without a care in the world. Then Zayn finally spoke.

“I did, didn’t I?”

That was the shadiest non-answer Louis had ever heard.

“Zayn.”

“Louis.”

“Where. Are. We. Going.” The words came out as emphatically as Louis had hoped.

“What would you say if I told you that you don’t need to know?”

“I would say have fun going on your own, you dick,” Louis exclaimed.

“Think of it like a surprise.”

“I fucking hate surprises, Zayn. You know this.”

Louis could almost see Zayn shrugging calmly down the line. It made Louis’ left eye twitch.

“Hmm. I mean, that’s too bad, Lou. Besides, you know if I tell you, you’re going to research the place to death and make a hideous itinerary that no one would want to use.”

“Excuse you, my itineraries are delightful,” Louis replied, voice rising a little.

“Whatever you say, Lou. Look, I don’t want you to worry about this, okay? You’re just gonna have to trust me. Now go finish color coding your outfits, or whatever you were doing.”

“I’m a writer, Zayn. I could come up with eleven ways to make you a villain in my next book.”

“Just eleven?” Zayn quipped. “You’re losing your touch. This is why you need a vacation.”

“I kind of hate you right now,” Louis groaned.

“Life is a highway, Lou. Not all who wander are lost. It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,” Zayn replied sagely.

“You’ve just violated at least five international copyright laws. And furthermore, what the fuck?”

“You heard me. Now go to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight.”

_Click._

That was the second time in a week that one of Louis’ supposed best friends had hung up on him. Louis yawned and looked at the time, then made his way to his bed. Maybe Zayn was right. Surely Louis could come up with at least twelve ways to villainize Zayn in his book. He smiled sleepily and crawled into his bed.

The next morning dawned clear and calm, and for once Louis didn’t roll over and go back to sleep. He had to admit, as he went about his morning routine, that he was a little excited and a lot curious about the trip.

It felt odd rolling his suitcase across the tile kitchen floor to the front door and having no one to say goodbye to. A flash of loneliness struck Louis. He smiled grimly, turned once to look over his shoulder at his eerily quiet flat, and then walked out the door.

Zayn texted Louis the time and place where they would meet in the airport, followed by a string of sun and cocktail emojis. Louis navigated the baggage check alone. When he arrived at the security check with his carry on, Louis was surprised to find Zayn already waiting, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Louis approached, and broke into a sleepy smile.

“Well, well, well,” Zayn teased. “Look who decided to come.”

Louis rolled his eyes and smiled. “I should leave you here and go back to my nice, quiet flat. There’s still time,” Louis warned.

Zayn snickered. “Uh huh. Right. Like the curiosity isn’t killing you right now.”

Louis shrugged in response. “This better be good is all I’m saying.”

Zayn handed Louis a boarding pass and led him towards the security checkpoint.

“Boarding is in twenty,” Zayn said, anticipating Louis’ question.

“So we’re really doing this,” Louis sighed, mentally preparing himself for the flight.

“Really, really,” Zayn murmured as they waited in line.

Louis examined his boarding pass and smiled. “St. Lucia, huh? Like, for real?”

“Yep,” Zayn replied, elbowing Louis in the arm. “Just wait.”

A few minutes passed, which Louis anxiously spent tapping his foot against the linoleum, and then he and Zayn took their turns going through security. Louis carefully stowed his laptop back into his carry on, then walked with Zayn towards their terminal.

It felt like they had just arrived when a woman in a neatly-pressed uniform stepped up to the podium with a microphone.

“Now boarding flight 5A to Castries SLU in St. Lucia,” she called.

Louis turned to Zayn with an eager smile. “Wow.”

“See? Some surprises are good,” Zayn said with a wink. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Louis shook his head in wonder, and followed Zayn to the door. Zayn handed over his boarding pass, which the friendly attendant scanned with a smile.

“Enjoy your trip,” she said cheerily.

Louis could only nod faintly, still a little in shock that this trip was actually legitimate. He followed Zayn down a ramp, around a corner, and then onto the plane. It wasn’t until they had claimed their seats and Louis had buckled up carefully that he spoke.

“I honestly don’t know what shocked me more,” Louis admitted. “That we’re going to a real island, or that we sprung for first class.”

Zayn flashed Louis a smile and elbowed him happily. “I’ll send you the bill.”

Louis grinned, relieved to finally know where he was going. After a few moments listening dutifully to a flight attendant outline the safety procedures, Louis turned to face Zayn with a hopeful smile.

“So...about that itinerary.”


	2. Chapter 2

II.

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”

\--Henry David Thoreau

After spending almost twelve hours on a plane with his best friend, Louis was both anxious and exhausted. Zayn was a good travel partner in that he largely kept to himself. He had alternated between watching an Avengers movie in-flight and scribbling in a shabby brown journal. The flight attendants, nevertheless were smitten by Zayn, one even going so far as to ask for an autograph. It wasn’t every day that the winner of the T. S. Eliot prize in poetry sat on your flight, Louis reasoned. The prestigious award had made Zayn a household name in the UK for literary types, while his good looks and physique appealed to the general public. Zayn had smiled calmly and signed his name on the notebook that was offered, as one does, and then returned to watching the movie.

While their preferred genres of writing were different, Zayn and Louis had a lot in common. Louis figured that you didn’t get to nearly twenty years of friendship with someone without enjoying some of the same things. Their shared interests ranged from superhero films to late night pizza and beer to watching home improvement shows, which wasn’t all that odd seeing as neither Zayn nor Louis had come from money. When they found themselves staring wide-eyed at their first advance payments from a publisher, they turned to HGTV for tips on home buying, furnishings, and the jargon to navigate a new, upper-class world. After a long day wrestling with the written word, there was something almost decadent about stretching out on the couch with your best friend and yelling at the house-hunting couples on TV who always picked the wrong houses.

Having both come from working middle-class homes, Zayn and Louis handled fame like they did their newfound money: with an equal balance of excitement and caution. They suspected that like the homeowners on TV who soon got tired of open floor plans, they too would find the novelty of fame wearing off. Coupled with Liam’s solid advice and friendship, the two knew they were being as realistic as possible about their careers.

That didn’t mean, however, that they couldn’t occasionally enjoy life. This trip, for example, was a perfect example: expensive, but likely worth it. Louis knew now that all the success in the world was useless if you were burned out on what you loved. As the plane taxied down the runway and came to a slow stop, Louis looked out the window and felt excited for the first time in a good while. Already, just being out of London was lifting his spirits. And as he gazed out at the sunshine waiting for him, Louis felt like he had made a smart and possibly life-saving decision.

And yes, he had started drafting an itinerary. Zayn would just have to deal with it.

The spotty WiFi on the airplane had given Louis just enough information to be an annoying tourist. Inside the complimentary shuttle to the resort, Zayn had tuned out as soon as Louis began describing St. Lucia as the Helen of the West Indies. Zayn had slipped his sunglasses on and stared out the window, looking infuriatingly like a supermodel host of a travel documentary.

“See, Zayn?” Louis said, elbowing Zayn in the side as he scrolled through his phone. “The island was captured and recaptured between the British and French so much, historians compare the island to Helen of Troy!”

Zayn shook his head and smiled good-naturedly. “Says Wikipedia.”

Louis scoffed. “No different than you using thesaurus.com to find synonyms for ‘cool.’”

“I did that one time, Lou.”

“Whatever. Now listen, you’re gonna have to tell me something about this resort,” Louis replied. “Its name, for example.”

Zayn flashed Louis a teasing smile. “What, and ruin the surprise?”

Louis deflated in his seat next to Zayn. “Oh god, it’s a hostel, isn’t it?”

Zayn had the audacity to giggle. “God’s sake, Lou. Who runs shuttles to a hostel?”

Louis blushed as awareness dawned on him. “Oh. Well, yes.”

“We’re almost there,” Zayn assured him. “Wait and see.”

Louis grumbled under his breath, but rested his head back again the seat in resignation. Soon enough, the shuttle was slowing in front of an elegant drive. The driver turned in and steered through an entry gate, nodded politely to the guard on duty, and continued on towards a large building that a sign nearby claimed was a “Welcome Pavilion.” A pavilion at The Landings Resort and Spa, another sign announced. Louis was surprised at its size, and tried to erase the mental image of a _Dirty Dancing_ -esque resort with ice-breakers, sing-alongs, and dance-offs.

The driver stepped out to assist Louis and Zayn with their luggage, and Zayn at least was mindful enough to tip the man. As the shuttle drove slowly away, Louis turned to look at Zayn.

“This is a real place,” Louis said in wonder.

“Yes, it is.”

“We’re at a fancy resort on an island.”

“Correct,” Zayn said with a growing smile.

“We need to make a pact right now to never get swept up into a dance-off with Patrick Swayze,” Louis warned faintly, craning his neck up to look at the Welcome Pavilion. “And no summer romance, period.”

Zayn shrugged and nodded easily. “Deal. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to meet the loves of our lives on a random Caribbean island.”

“Exactly,” Louis agreed, but his stomach fluttered with nerves suddenly. It was only a matter of time until the relentless sunshine and anxiety made him break out in hives. Luckily, a bellhop chose that moment to stroll out and greet them.

“Gentlemen,” a tall black man in a red uniform boomed loudly as he approached. “Welcome to the Landings. My name is Henri.”

Louis smiled politely and took turns with Zayn introducing themselves. Henri’s smile was bright and friendly as he shook their hands in turn.

“First time on the island?” Henri guessed as he procured a luggage cart and wheeled it over.

“How’d you guess?” Louis said, smile growing a little.

“I know a traveler when I see one,” Henri relied. “Come, come, let’s get out of this heat and get you checked in. Are you together?” he asked politely, gesturing between Louis and Zayn.

It took a moment for Louis to catch on to what Henri was saying. “Us? No,” he chuckled. “We’d kill each other.”

“What he means is,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes at Louis, “we’re best friends. Separate rooms, please.”

Henri laughed and shook his head. “I’m going to call you Tom and Jerry. Follow me.”

Walking inside the refreshingly chilly air of the lobby was a little surreal. The room was framed with lofty, arched pillars and ornate lanterns overlooking an earth-toned checkered floor and beautifully-preserved vintage wicker furniture. Louis wanted to sink into one of the plush couches and just soak it all in. There was a baby-grand piano in the corner, of all things. He felt a little like Jack walking into the first-class grand hall in _Titanic._ Apparently this resort brought out the movie references for Louis.

At a spacious concierge center in the lobby, Henri stopped and turned to face Louis and Zayn. “Let’s check in, shall we?”

Louis nodded eagerly, and Henri winked before turning to face an attractive woman behind the desk. She wore a crisp, white blouse and a cheerful orange and yellow scarf. Her name tag identified her as Rachelle. Like Henri, she was smiling.

“Good morning, Rachelle. We have some new guests to welcome,” Henri said cordially.

Rachelle nodded at Louis and Zayn in welcome, took their names, and then confirmed their reservation. “Malik, two beachside one-bedroom villas. Is that correct?”

Zayn nodded and said yes.

“Wonderful. Welcome to the Landings, and please enjoy your stay, gentlemen!” she beamed with a final click on her computer keyboard. “Henri will show you to your villas.”

Henri smiled conspiratorially at Louis and Zayn, like he was actually leading them to some kind of Batcave instead of a villa. Louis just smiled and tried to store everyone’s name away in his memory.

“Would you like to take the golf cart, gentlemen, or are you up for a walk?” Henri asked.

Louis and Zayn exchanged looks and shrugged. What’s it going to hurt, Louis thought.

“Walk,” they said in unison, and Henri nodded as if they’d made the right choice.

Henri led them through wide, smooth walkways across the resort, greeting uniformed employees and other guests by name. Smooth, turquoise water seemed to fill the interior of the resort, while sprawling villas hemmed it in on each side. As the group rounded the corner, Louis could see the water flow into what Henri described as Rodney Bay. There was something calming about watching the channel of water expand and flow outward towards the bay.

Henri stopped at Villa 1304 and turned to Zayn. “Here will be your room, Zayn.”

Zayn nodded his approval, and Henri instructed him how to swipe his key to enter. Then he unloaded Zayn’s luggage swiftly and carried it into the room. Zayn whistled quietly as he surveyed the villa’s contents, then turned to face Louis and Henri. “Beautiful, truly. Thank you Henri.”

Henri grinned and nodded, and bid Zayn farewell. Then he turned back to Louis. “And you’ll be in 1305, Louis.”

Louis followed him a small distance down the path to the next villa, where Henri stopped. He went through the instructions briefly this time as he swiped Louis’ key card, then led Louis into the villa. He was tempted to stop in his tracks and take it all in, but Louis glanced back at Henri with a smile. “Wow,” he admitted, “this is too much.”

Henri chuckled happily. “It’s just enough, friend. Now, you call me if you need anything, okay? I’m sure I will see you around.”

He offered a hand to shake, and Louis shook hands with Henri. Louis passed Henri a tip.

“Thank you,” Louis said, still a little dazed.

“Anytime. Oh, and Louis?” Henri asked as he walked towards the door.

“Yes?”

“Like I said, I know a traveler when I see one. I also know a troubled soul when I see one, Louis. Take care of yourself, and don’t work too hard.”

Louis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How did you--” he began, but Henri was already crossing the threshold.

Henri turned back and gave Louis a knowing smile. “Enjoy your stay, Louis,” he said in farewell, and then the door closed with a soft click.

Louis stood bolted to the spot for a moment, cautiously gazing around his home away from home for the next two weeks. Without Henri or Zayn, the villa was eerily quiet now. Louis stifled a shiver, adjusted the arctic AC, and began turning on lights as he explored deeper into his room. Rooms. Jesus, Louis thought in wonder.

The details weren’t really sinking in yet, and the villa didn’t quite feel real--like it was actually his. Louis pulled out a framed family photo stored carefully in his suitcase, placed it on the bedside table, then turned on the flat screen TV and adjusted the volume to a low setting. He sighed as he pulled out his laptop and watched it come to life. Louis carried it to a long, polished wooden table and sat down in a wicker dining chair. Across the room, a sliding door led way to a private patio, where sunlight was beaming outside. He opened a document on his computer called “The Hail Mary Book,” so titled after the football play of the same name. The title served as a reminder that time was ticking, and Louis was out of other options. This book had to be The Book, period.

Louis pulled out his phone and texted Zayn _Ok, maybe I like some surprises._

While he waited for Zayn’s reply, Louis stared at his progress so far: a completely blank screen, save for one word at the top: The. That was as far as Louis had gotten, and he could admit it was a little funny and a lot sad. Zayn texted back a few moments later.

_I knew you would. This place is amazing._

_It really is,_ Louis replied.

_Oh, and Lou?_ Zayn added a second later.

Louis stared at his phone expectantly. _What?_

Zayn’s reply made Louis snort a laugh.

_Put away your itinerary and relax, you nerd._

Louis grinned and leaned back in his chair, staring out the sliding door to the resort that awaited him. He snapped his laptop shut with a satisfying click, then opened the door and slipped out into the sunshine.

Louis intended to stroll a circle around the resort, ending at the beach. He knocked on the door of 1304, and suspected he already knew the answer to his question before he asked.

“Hey, Z. Want to go exploring?” Louis asked when Zayn opened the door with a pencil tucked behind his ear and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Zayn blew out a stream of smoke, then fixed Louis with an amused look.

“Nah, Lou. I think I’m gonna…” Zayn replied, gesturing vaguely behind him into the villa, where the lights were off and the curtains closed.

“Take a nap?” Louis guessed.

“I was gonna say, ‘write something useful,’ but sure. That too.”

“I figured as much,” Louis said with a wry smile. “Also, I don’t think you can smoke in there.”

Zayn inhaled from his cigarette, then exhaled pointedly in Louis’ direction. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Louis rolled his eyes and muttered a goodbye, and Zayn blew him a kiss and shut his door.

Alone again, Louis pulled out his phone and checked the time. The flight had left him completely disoriented in a way, and Louis was surprised to see it was nearly noon in St. Lucia. He wasn’t hungry yet, so Louis continued walking. He retraced his steps back to the Welcome Pavilion and around the other side of the resort. Eventually, Louis approached a long pier facing boat slips for the yachts out in the bay. He passed a spacious structure styled like the pavilion, then strolled to the pier’s edge and sat down.

It was such a change in scenery from looking down on the garden below his flat that Louis could only stare for a moment. He knew there was a movie moment for this somewhere. Then it hit Louis--this was similar to the scene in _The Wizard of Oz_ in which Dorothy steps out of her drab house and into vivid technicolor in a new land.

Louis snapped a few photos from his phone and texted them to the family group chat with a simple caption:

_Arrived!_

While he waited for his siblings’ replies, exhaustion began to set in for Louis. He slowly stood, his muscles and joints protesting the movement, and headed back towards the heart of the resort. One of the last places he had passed was what Louis hoped was a restaurant of some sort. As he approached it, Louis saw tables under shelters with exposed beams amidst tables out in the sunlight. Each of the outside tables was shaded by a bright blue umbrella and set for a meal. Louis was tempted to take a seat, but the heat was already getting to him. So Louis walked to the center of the restaurant and found himself at a bar.

A man was polishing wine glasses behind the bar, and he looked up when Louis approached him.

The man broke out into an easy smile and greeted Louis.

“Welcome to the Beach Club Bar!” he said cheerfully. “My name is Niall.” Niall carefully put down the glass he was cleaning and turned to fully face Louis. Beyond his bright blue eyes, his eager face was framed by artfully arranged brown hair, giving him that ‘I just climbed out of the bay after a rigorous swim’ look that not many could pull off.

“Louis,” Louis said in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, mate! What can I get for you?” Niall asked folding his tanned arms on the bartop expectantly. “You hungry? You look a bit hungry.”

Louis smiled involuntarily at Niall and shrugged. “Sure. Would you happen to have a menu?”

Niall grinned and pulled a folded menu seemingly out of thin air. While Louis studied his food options, Niall gave him some space and resumed polishing his wine glasses. A few moments later, Niall spoke.

“New here, huh?”

Louis’ eyes snapped up to meet Niall’s. “How did you know?”

Niall chuckled. “Mate, first day and you’re already sunburned. No beachwear, and no fancy clothes--no offense--which makes me think one of two things.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in silent expectation.

“One,” Niall said, placing a wine glass upside down on the bartop, “you’re a stowaway from one of those damned cruise ships that trolls by the island.”

Louis sighed and shook his head no, smiling fondly at the chatty stranger. Louis suspected that Niall never met a stranger, though.

“Or two,” Niall continued, narrowed his eyes in speculation, “you’re actually a big deal and don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Which is a mystery in and of itself. What’s your story?”

“Guess,” Louis challenged, enjoying Niall’s descriptions. “You seem to be good at this.”

Niall grinned and pulled out a shot glass. He began mixing a blue substance. “Bet you a shot I get pretty close,” he said with a roguelike smile.

“This I’ve got to see,” Louis said.

For a moment, Niall simply scanned up and down Louis’ casual attire and expression. He stared intently into Louis’ eyes, then at Louis’ phone on the bartop that suddenly began to chime with text notifications. Then he smiled.

“Okay,” Niall said confidently. “Here we go. First, you spend most of your time indoors, most likely working at a computer, judging by your posture,” Niall began. “You’re in contacts, but you wear glasses for eye strain. Good so far?”

Louis shrugged with a nonchalant expression. “Perhaps.”

“Ha!” Niall cheered. “Okay, moving on. You have a large circle of friends--actually, make that family--and since you’re here alone, you left them at home. Which leads me to my next point, which is, this isn’t purely a tropical holiday. You’re also here to work.”

Louis remained silent, but his smile grew.

Niall just winked at Louis and added a shot of Patron to the concoction he was making. “Okay, next. Despite your casual clothes, you’ve got the money to make this holiday a blowout. But you don’t come from money,” he mused.

“Speculation,” Louis scoffed.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em, mate. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Occupation.”

Louis leaned his elbows on the bartop and shrugged innocently. “Go for it.”

“See,” Niall said, “you’re looking at me like I’ll never guess it. But if I do, you’re taking a shot.”

“What is it?” Louis asked, staring at the shot glass.

“Pineapple upside down shot,” Niall said offhandedly. “Now let me think.”

Louis watched in amused silence as Niall pondered his reply. Then Niall snapped his fingers.

“Got it. You, Louis, are an IT specialist in a Fortune 500 company.”

Louis giggled and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Famous YouTuber.”

“Not even close, mate,” Louis answered. “You get one more guess.”

Niall grinned at the challenge. “Deal. Well, if you’re not the creator of Tinder--”

“What the hell?”

“...and you’re not Bill Gates’ second cousin or something--”

“Jesus.”

“Then you must be,” Niall trailed off for dramatic effect, pointing a finger at Louis, “a world-famous writer.”

Louis’ jaw dropped in utter shock.

“Now drink,” Niall said triumphantly, pushing the shot across the bar.

Louis shook his head, still bewildered, and picked up the shot. “Why’s it called pineapple upside down shot?” he asked, staring skeptically at the electric blue substance.

Niall mimed picking up a shot glass. “Because you,” he said, tipping back the imaginary shot, “turn it upside down. Duh.”

Louis shook his head again, this time at the terrible joke, and downed the shot.

“Yes!” Niall crowed, raising his arms in victory.

Louis grimaced at the burn of tequila and put down the glass. Then he turned to face Niall. “Now tell me how you did it.”

“Ah, well. About that,” Niall replied, bending down to retrieve something behind the bar. “Kid left this on the table at breakfast, and I’ve been reading it ever since,” he said. He handed Louis a dog-eared book and gave him a sheepish smile. “Recognized you from the photo on the back.”

The book was _Home_.

Louis looked up from the copy of his novel in mock-outrage. “Bastard!”

Niall laughed gleefully at his expression. “Mate,” he said, gasping for breath, “you should’ve seen your face. Jesus.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but felt a smile cross his face at the joke. “God, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You totally did!” Niall replied, wiping a tear from his eye. “Hey, but seriously. This is officially my copy now. And I want an autograph.”

Louis laughed until he had to put his head down on the (thankfully spotless) bartop. “Only for you, Niall.”

Niall procured a purple sharpie and handed it to Louis. Louis in turn signed the title page with a trademark smiley face with xed-out eyes and gave the book back to Niall.

“Okay, now,” Niall said, resuming a businesslike demeanor. “Let’s get you something to eat. And I’ll make you a real drink, how’s about.”

Louis slid onto a tall chair at the bar and offered a hand to shake. Niall shook it enthusiastically and then made a few suggestions from the menu. While Louis waited, he checked his messages.

_Dazey: I miss you Lou! Have fun!_

_Phoebes: I miss you more_

_Lottie: We were getting worried! Have a great time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do._

_Louis: So, do anything I want and go wild then? Lol_

_Lottie: This is a family chat, Louis. Get out of here. Love you! Xx_

Louis smiled fondly at the messages, then asked Niall to surprise him. He was growing to like surprises.

Louis’ instinct after eating a generous helping of shrimp alfredo and chatting with Niall was to return to his room for a nap. Between the flight, the sunshine, and the several people he had spoken with that day, Louis needed some peace and quiet. A glance at his phone showed it was around 3 pm. A white notepad on the bar caught Louis’ eye, and he found a pen nearby as well. Louis thanked Niall, who was now serving a family of five, and shuffled out back into the sun.

Louis knew if he returned to his room to get his swim trunks, he would end up napping for an hour or more. Instead, he wandered down to the beach with his pen and paper and sank gratefully onto a blue lounge chair under a wide umbrella facing the water. A few other brave souls were lounging in the open sunlight in varying stages of tan. Occasionally, someone who Louis inferred was a butler of some sort mingled along the beach, quietly offering snacks or drinks from the bar. Louis was almost content to doze in the shade for a few minutes.

The same butler approached Louis with a professional smile and a small spiral notebook at the ready. “Afternoon, sir,” he said in greeting. “My name is Marcus. Can I offer you some refreshments? A cold towel? Some sunscreen?” Marcus asked, eyeing the freshly burned skin on Louis’ face.

Louis answered with a polite no thank you and tried to mirror Marcus’ cheery smile.

“Of course, sir,” Marcus replied with a courteous nod.

“Call me Louis, ok?” Louis asked, his smile growing. “How bad is the sunburn, exactly?”

Marcus shrugged, but his wide, brown eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’ve seen worse, sir. Louis.”

“Oh god,” Louis sighed.

“Maybe it will turn to tan?”

Louis chuckled and shook his head. “We’ll see, I guess.”

Something beeped then, and Marcus gazed down at a walkie talkie clipped to his belt. He deftly pushed a sequence of buttons, then flashed Louis a smile. “That’s my cue. Have a great afternoon, Louis. I will see you tomorrow, I hope?”

“I’ll be here,” Louis assured him with a nod. He returned Marcus’ wave as he trekked through the sand to a group of young women waiting for him.

Alone again, Louis decided to try free writing. It was one of his favorite exercises, even if all he ended up with was a page of nonsense. He set a timer on his phone for ten minutes, stared out at the water, and let his thoughts unravel on paper.

Louis was doodling mediocre pictures of sharks on his notepad after his free write when Zayn texted. A glance at the clock showed Louis had been drawing for half an hour, just relaxing on the beach alone. The sun was shining, but evening was on its way. A gentle breeze rippled through strands of Louis’ fringe, and most of the guests had retreated from tanning for the day.

_Where r u mate?_ Zayn had texted. _I slept for three hours and dreamt i was a mermaid._

Louis grinned at the mental picture, then replied.

_You can’t be a mermaid in your villa, Z. Come out on the beach._

While Louis waited for Zayn’s response or his arrival, whichever came first, he stretched in the lounge chair. Louis had to hand it to the Caribbean--he was more relaxed after one afternoon than he had been since, well. Since a couple years anyway.

Louis reread the messy scrawl on his borrowed notepad, trying to find something useful to spark an idea for his novel. He smiled when he realized that he had written a mashup of beach imagery, an itinerary, and the lyrics to “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World. 2001 was a great year, what could he say?

Louis heard the distinct sound of flip flops approaching and smiled. Someone was grumbling under their breath. Louis smelled Zayn before he saw him--it was an unmistakable blend of menthols, Versace cologne, and a freshly-sharpened pencil. Zayn came into Louis’ peripheral vision holding his phone and his journal. He plopped down on the lounge chair next to Louis and sighed.

“About time,” Louis remarked without glancing away from the water ahead of him. He turned to face his best friend and saw that Zayn was sprawled across the chair, looking both comfortable and stylish. Zayn was in a simple white tank, showcasing his tattoos, and cuffed, white linen trousers. A pair of flip flops sat neatly beside his chair.

“You look like Nick Carter, circa _Millenium_ ,” Louis said tonelessly, assessing Zayn’s outfit.

“Hey,” Zayn replied, inclining his head towards Louis, “Backstreet’s back, alright?”

“I was more of an N’SYNC guy myself,” Louis mused, turning back to the water.

“Do you think we’re too old to start a band?” Zayn asked.

“Nah,” Louis said. “If this writing gig doesn’t work out for us, we should try it.”

“One of those talent shows?” Zayn guessed.

“Course.”

“Audition song?”

Louis pondered for a moment, then grinned. “‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna.”

“Ooh,” Zayn nodded in approval. “Ok, I’m in.”

For a moment, they both stared out at the water. Mesmerizing sunlight glinted off the surface.

“So this was a great idea,” Louis proposed.

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “I think so, too. What do you want to do tonight?”

Louis yawned. “I hate to say it, but maybe room service and movies? Just this once.”

Zayn hummed. “Had enough excitement for one day?”

“Introvert problems,” Louis sighed.

“You want to go check out the menu?”

“Actually, can we just sit here for another minute?” Louis asked.

“‘S nice,” Zayn agreed. “Hey, Lou?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you know you have a sunburn?”

Back in Zayn’s villa, Louis and Zayn sat on the king size bed surrounded by various dishes, devices, and remotes. Louis was surprised to see there were at least four remotes in the villa. What were they all for?

_Clueless_ was playing on the flat-screen TV while they ate. Zayn was picking at a slice of spinach and feta pizza, and Louis had eaten through half a take-out box of sweet and sour chicken as they watched the movie.

Alicia Silverstone was picking an outfit from her impressive wardrobe on screen as Zayn and Louis kept up a running commentary. It was tradition.

“How’d you think I’d look in that skirt?” Zayn asked, gesturing to Cher’s miniskirt on screen.

“Like a total knockout,” Louis suggested. “Meanwhile, I just want her closet.”

“That computerized inventory is the shit,” Zayn agreed.

“So,” Louis said a few minutes later, helping Zayn carry the leftover food to his refrigerator, “get anything done today?”

Zayn shrugged. “Nah. I’m just kind of planning a theme right now.”

“I drew some sharks,” Louis said helpfully.

“Do you want me to read what you’ve got so far?” Zayn offered.

“I mean, right now it’s a blank page,” Louis confessed. “But hopefully someday, I’ll take you up on that.”

“Have you heard from Liam today?” Zayn asked.

Louis frowned. “No, actually. I’m kind of concerned. What time is it in London?”

Zayn checked his phone. “Looks like...4 am.”

“Better call him tomorrow then,” Louis decided. “And I think I’m heading to bed.”

“Sure, Lou. Have a good night. You want to meet up for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

“Where?”

Louis thought back to his afternoon at the bar, then smiled. “I know a guy.”

Back in his own villa, Louis clicked on a few lights. He opened a playlist on his phone called, creatively enough, “Sleep.” Then he began unpacking a few things from his suitcase.

Clothes. Sunscreen. (Ha.) A waterproof instant camera his siblings had surprised him with before he left. _Best Poems of the Twentieth Century._ A pair of earplugs. A clothespin. (His mother swore by clothespins when she traveled.)

A pang of guilt swept through Louis at the thought of Jay. He wondered what she would think about him reaching a whole new level of procrastination on his work. About how he had somehow lost his way. About him leaving his siblings behind to take a luxury holiday alone.

Deep down, Louis knew she was proud of him, that he was making the best decision. But as he absorbed the quiet in his own personal villa, Louis had never felt more adrift.

Louis’ phone buzzed unexpectedly, and he frowned. Who would be calling at this time of night? He picked up the phone and saw Lottie’s name and picture on the screen.

“Lots?” he asked into the phone.

“Hey, Lou,” she replied. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis asked with a smile as he sank down onto the bed. “How’s that?”

“Well, one,” Lottie replied, “you have jet lag.”

“Mhm, fair,” Louis admitted.

“And two,” she continued, “you’re fretting over us and feeling guilty.”

Louis didn’t respond.

“Aren’t you?” Lottie pressed.

“Lots, listen--” Louis began, flopping back flat against the bed.

“No, you listen. Ok?”

“Ok,” Louis said resignedly.

“Right. So, it’s your nature to worry about us, I know.”

“Right.”

“And you always take care of us. You want what’s best for us,” Lottie continued.

“Of course,” Louis replied.

“But Lou, who takes care of you?”

Silence.

“Lou? Louis.”

Tears pricked Louis’ eyes, and he took a deep breath.

“I’m here, Lots.”

“You know we’re always on your side, Lou. Always will be. But this book, taking this trip--it’s you taking care of yourself as well.”

“I know,” Louis said, biting his lip. “I do.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Lottie explained. “We’ll be here when you get back, safe and sound. So now, here’s what you need to do. Rest. Have some fun. Check in with Liam, because I know he will be climbing the walls worrying. And write if you can.”

“If I can?” Louis joked.

“Well, can you?” Lottie asked diplomatically.

“We’ll find out soon, I guess.”

“You can do it, Lou. We all have faith in you. Ok, listen, I need to get to bed. You know how early the babies wake on Saturday mornings for cartoons.”

Louis chuckled a watery laugh and let one fat tear fall from his eye. “I do know. Get some rest.”

“You too, Lou. Love you,” Lottie said in farewell.

“Love you too,” Louis answered. “Goodnight.”

He listened as Lottie murmured goodnight and hung up the phone. Louis lay there on the immaculate white duvet and stared at the ceiling for a moment. He suddenly felt much older than his 27 years. Louis sat up to adjust the photo on his bedside table so it would be the first thing he saw in the morning. Then he changed into a pair of threadbare grey sweats and crawled under the covers to sleep, absently humming “Umbrella.” He drifted off before he got to the chorus, completely exhausted.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”

\--Anton Chekhov

When Louis awoke the next morning, it was to an alarm he didn’t remember setting. “Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO was blaring from his phone, and Louis groaned. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around at the beautiful, dim room he was in: plush, fresh-smelling bed; large flat-screen across from the bed; tasteful black-and-white photographs on the walls; and through a doorway to his left, a state-of-the-art kitchen. All around him there was quiet and peace. There wasn’t another soul anywhere in the villa, and yet Louis felt calm. Almost.

Louis quickly retrieved his phone just as the song got to the chorus--

_Mr. Blue Sky, please tell me why_

_You had to hide away for so long (soooo long!)_

_Mr. Blue--_

“Alright, enough. I’m up,” Louis said to no one in particular, and then he silenced the alarm. He sat up slowly, looking around the luxuriously quiet room. He felt suspended somehow in space and time. God, Louis had read too many books, he thought as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and brushed his toes against the soft carpet.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Louis assessed his hair. It was rumpled on the right side of his head after sleeping on it, and it could use a wash. _Louis_ could use a wash. He yawned, shaking his head at his reflection. He could shower after breakfast. Not like there was anyone at the resort to impress. He did concede to deodorant, though.

Louis rummaged through his suitcase for clothes and came up holding a tee shirt that read, _The book was better,_ and a pair of jean shorts that his sisters would be mortified to see in public. Oh well. He slipped on comfortably broken-in sandals, then he grabbed his phone and keycard and headed for the door.

Zayn’s stare when he opened his door two minutes later was a mixture of shock and fascination, just like the time they had witnessed an army of ants marching across the playground hoisting a dead slug. He simply scanned down Louis’ body and back up, raised his eyebrows, and then shrugged. Zayn himself had chosen a fitted graphic tee shirt and distressed black jeans. His hair was styled in his trademark, “I woke up like this” look. Apparently he had decided that if he was going to look like a tourist, he was going to do it with some style.

“Well, damn,” Louis said, looking down at his casual attire, “I look like a potato next to you.”

Zayn snorted a laugh. “A hot potato, maybe.”

Louis gave Zayn a flat look.

“Get it? A _hot_ potato?” Zayn grinned, and then he laughed again. “Just kidding, Lou--you don’t resemble a potato.”

“You know what this moment needs?” Louis asked, leading the conversation to something more useful.

“What?”

“Coffee,” Louis replied confidently.

“Lead the way,” Zayn agreed with a smile.

As they walked in search of breakfast, Louis could swear Zayn was giggling under his breath, _hot potato, ha._

And they said Louis’ jokes were terrible. God.

Louis led Zayn back to the restaurant where he had met Niall the afternoon before. A few families were eating hearty-looking meals on shining white flatware in the shade. Louis approached the bar in search of the chatty bartender, only to find the bar strangely vacant. He flashed Zayn a confused look, then cautiously stepped closer to the bar. As he approached it, Louis could hear someone mumbling.

Louis shrugged and tapped the bartop twice. “Niall?”

No one answered, but Louis could now clearly hear the voice murmuring. Otherwise, no one responded.

_Champagne glasses in the morning...clean glasses...Jesus...what kind of business do they think--_

“Niall? Is that you, mate?” Louis asked a little louder.

There was a loud thump, followed by a pained sound, as if someone had sustained a blow to the head. A moment later, a head popped up above the bartop. The face belonged to a man who appeared to be around Louis’ age. His dark, curly hair was frizzing from the humidity that morning, causing it to stick out in odd places. An otherwise handsome face framed by an attractive jawline stared back at Louis with a mixture of confusion and irritation. He was rubbing the top of his head tenderly, confirming Louis’ suspicions that the man had, in fact, hit his head.

“Yes?” the man asked, glancing from Louis to Zayn. “Can I help you?”

“You’re not Niall,” Louis replied helpfully, and found himself blushing under the man’s scrutiny.

“No, I’m not. Sorry,” he explained. He stared at Louis for a moment, curiosity written across his features, and then something beeped behind the bar. Not-Niall, as Louis was coming to think of the man, sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. The next instant, he ducked back under the bar, muttering again.

_Ok...if you were a champagne glass...where would you hide?...grouchy, the whole family…_

“Excuse me?” Louis asked, interrupting the man’s talking a second time.

“Hmm?” Not-Niall replied distractedly, followed by an _aha! Thank you god._ The man finally stood to his full height behind the bar, raising two pristing champagne glasses in triumph. His smartwatch beeped, and he silenced it impatiently.

“I was just wondering about breakfast,” Louis said, annoyance seeping into his reply.

Not-Niall’s eyes, which were strikingly green, snapped into focus on Louis’ face.

“Oh! God, sorry. Excuse me,” he lamented, tapping quickly on his watch. “I’m kind of in a hurry, crazy impatient couple at 8 am--”

_Beep._

“...good lord! I’m coming, alright!” the man exclaimed. “Sorry, as I was saying--I just sent Greg a message to get back to the bar now. He can take your breakfast orders. Tell him I said to bring you complementary pastries for your wait.”

“Who are you, mate?” Zayn asked curiously, inclining his head to Not-Niall.

“I’m Harry,” the man replied hurriedly, “and I’m terribly late. Have a lovely breakfast, gentlemen. Got to run now.”

Louis and Zayn watched in amusement as Harry carefully held the two spotless champagne glasses in one hand, then picked up an impressive digital camera from behind the bar. He slipped the strap over his head with surprising grace, nodded at Louis and Zayn, and then took off towards an unknown destination at a near sprint.

Left alone, Louis and Zayn exchanged confused glances. Zayn shrugged and picked up a menu from the edge of the bar, then handed it to Louis. Next, Zayn grabbed one for himself and began reading their options. A few moments later, a man approached behind the bar at a brisk walk. He propped a pair of simple yet stylish sunglasses on top of his sandy, brown hair and turned to Louis and Zayn with a friendly smile.

“Hi, guys! My name is Greg. I’m sorry about your wait,” he said in introduction. “Can I show you to a table?”

Louis said hello and then nodded for Greg to show them the way.

Greg led them to a nearby table, still in the shade, but facing the bay. “Is this ok?” he asked politely, gesturing towards the view.

“It’s great, thank you,” Zayn answered with a small smile.

Greg turned to face Zayn, a smile already on his face, and then he froze. His hazel eyes were blinking, and he was breathing, but Greg appeared to be entranced by Zayn’s presence. A moment later, Greg returned to his senses, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry,” he said a little breathlessly. “I thought you were--sorry, never mind. What can I get you, gentlemen?”

Greg took Louis and Zayn’s orders with only a slight flush to his cheeks, to his credit. He pulled out a sleek tablet and tapped the screen a few practiced times, then looked at Louis. “There we go. I’ve put your orders in, guys. It’ll be right out.”

“Thank you,” Louis and Zayn replied together, and Greg cast Zayn one more curious look before he left their table, striding off towards the bar.

Louis grinned at Zayn and shook his head. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”

Zayn, who was currently immersed in his phone, raised his eyebrows. He followed Louis’ line of sight towards Greg, then rolled his eyes at Louis. “Right,” he deadpanned.

“Nice guy, is all I’m saying. Very polite.”

“I believe we made a pact, Louis,” Zayn remarked.

“We did!” Louis exclaimed as realization dawned on him. “No summer romance. No _Dirty Dancing_ scenes being recreated.”

“Not even practicing the lift in the water?”

“Especially not that,” Louis insisted. “We are the epitome of writing professionals, and we are on a mission.”

“True,” Zayn agreed, setting his phone down on the polished wood tabletop. “Writing, yes. Mission.”

By the time their food (and pastries, per Harry’s offer) arrived at the table, Louis and Zayn were chatting excitedly about their respective projects. Louis took a grateful sip of coffee and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Good?” Zayn guessed, trying covertly to add more sugar to his own coffee.

“Better than the kind I buy,” Louis admitted, taking another sip. “We’re never leaving, just so you know.”

Zayn chuckled. “We’ll see. You’re a creature of habit, Lou.”

“It’s too bad Niall wasn’t here,” Louis continued, unbothered. “He’s funny. Nice guy.”

“Like, _nice,_ nice, or just nice?” Zayn asked with a teasing smile.

“I’m not into him,” Louis replied. “God. He’d be great to hang out with while we’re here, though.”

“Hmm,” Zayn said lightly as he scooped up some scrambled eggs on a thick piece of toast. He didn’t comment further, and the two ate in content silence for the next several minutes. Soon, people Louis didn’t recognize began grouping up on the beach. They were dressed mostly in white, and a gentle breeze blew that morning. A woman juggling a three-ring binder and stacks of paper was holding a cheery, yellow parasol over the head of another woman, currently speaking into a phone. She wore a flowing, white dress that only looked simple; the entire tableau screamed excess and wealth. To Louis’ writer’s eye, it was like a scene out of _The Great Gatsby._ Louis and Zayn stared as the first woman attempted to follow the other around the beach with the parasol while balancing everything she was holding. The others in the party, ranging from young girls in white dresses to a cluster of men absorbed in their phones, seemed to give the woman under the parasol a wide berth.

“Wedding party?” Zayn guessed, quietly watching the spectacle on the beach.

“Probably,” Louis mused. “Bride?”

Zayn scanned each member of the party, then focused on one. “Lady under the parasol yelling into her phone,” he suggested.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Louis agreed. “Groom?”

Zayn cracked a smile. “Not present. Most likely the one being chastised over the phone.”

Louis snickered. “Major offense?” he asked.

Zayn hummed, deep in thought. “My guess is, he forgot the rings at home.”

Louis winced as the would-be bride waved her arm in agitation and then emphatically ended the call. “Ooh, that’s not looking good.”

Just then, a man strode across the sand towards the wedding party. In contrast to the all-white theme, he was wearing a fitted pink polo and tailored khaki shorts. He took calm, measured steps towards the group. He appeared to have a camera slung over his neck.

“Enter the photographer,” Louis narrated, squinting in the sunlight at the man.

“Is that the guy from the bar? Harry?” Zayn asked, following Louis’ gaze.

“Oh, hey!” Louis said. “Looks like it.”

“He’s a wedding photographer?” Zayn replied. “Should we warn him about what he’s walking into?”

Louis finally focused on Harry’s face, which bespoke irritation masked by a polite smile. Even from this distance, Louis could see a tightness around Harry’s mouth. It was a clear tell. Yet everyone in the wedding party appeared so absorbed in themselves, no one actually noticed. The bride’s assistant--wedding planner? Maid of honor?--accidentally dropped her binder onto the sand, removing the parasol from the bride, and Louis winced.

Before another blow-up could form, Harry jogged towards the woman and knelt to help her retrieve her things. In a flash, he carefully took the parasol and held it over the bride’s head, where an array of blonde curls were beginning to unravel in places under the sun. A few strands had fallen completely straight now, and Harry handed the parasol to the bride’s assistant and pulled a package of pins out of his pocket. He artfully tucked the strands of hair back into place. He was speaking to the bride in a low voice that had an immediate effect on her posture. Her tense, tan shoulders relaxed a fraction, and she took a deep breath. She nodded calmly along with Harry’s instructions, almost like a child being reprimanded, but yet she beamed a bright smile at him. Harry patted her arm reassuringly and then pulled two now-familiar champagne glasses seemingly out of nowhere. The bride clapped and squealed happily, then turned to show them to her frazzled assistant.

Crisis averted for now, Harry turned to the men still clustered around their phones and began directing them into place. When they hesitated, Harry snapped his fingers, just once, and the men dispersed to follow his instructions. By the time Harry turned to the little girls twirling their skirts and kicking up sand with their bare feet, he was sweating. Louis watched as he distractedly wiped his brow in a practiced motion, then knelt to talk to the girls. Whatever he said made them giggle and nod their heads. Harry gave them both hugs, then pointed in the direction they should go.

In a matter of minutes, a man dressed in white with a slightly askew flower pinned to his shirt crossed the beach. The entire wedding party turned with curiosity as he jogged towards his bride. He wordlessly procured the rings from his pocket.

“Good save,” Zayn commented, in full spectator mode.

“Is it enough?” Louis wondered aloud.

Together, they watched as the couple exchanged a brief kiss, and the bride straightened the flowers pinned to the groom’s shirt. They smiled at one another, then at Harry, as if to say _ready to go!_

Harry nodded and clapped his hands twice to get the party’s attention. Then the group took their places for photos. A few staff members and guests were watching curiously from the restaurant area as Harry directed each shot. After a few moments, the excitement died down and they turned back to their conversations and tasks. Louis realized with a start that even Zayn had resumed scrolling through his phone, leaving him the only one still watching. Louis took one more covert look at the strong lines of Harry’s back in his pink shirt, then turned back resolutely to his table. He finished his breakfast, and then he and Zayn wandered around the resort for a few minutes. Louis resisted the urge to look back at Harry working, strangely fascinated with the contrast of how he had moved at the bar earlier compared to working with the wedding party. Clearly, he was in his element now. Fleetingly, Louis wondered if he ever looked half as interesting to others while writing. Then he shook the thought from his mind and followed Zayn.

What was one supposed to do mid-morning at a Caribbean resort? As Louis and Zayn walked, the guests at the Landings began to stir. Families with children turned towards the beach or the pool, arms laden with toys and inflatable floats. Couples in dark sunglasses walked towards the restaurant, likely in search of St. Lucia’s finest hangover cuisine. An older couple was chatting with Henri when Louis and Zayn approached him near the welcome pavilion.

Henri spoke a few words to the couple, making them laugh. Then he turned towards Louis and Zayn.

“Ah!” he called brightly, “Tom and Jerry! Join us, gentlemen.”

Louis exchanged a cautious look with Zayn before crossing the final distance to the three talking. “Hi,” he waved to the group, and Zayn echoed a hello beside him.

“My friends, Tom and Jerry,” Henri greeted, opening his arms in welcome. Louis smiled and stepped closer to hug Henri, along with Zayn. “Our new guests,” Henri explained to the couple, who Louis could see up close were the age his grandparents might have been. “Louis, Zayn, this is Mr. and Mrs. Byron Shields, very good friends of the Landings--and mine.”

Louis and Zayn exchanged polite hellos with the Shields. Mrs. Shields, a petite woman with vibrant red hair and a long turquoise dress that shimmered in the sun, looked first at Zayn, and then at Louis.

“Lovely to meet you,” she said. “Such handsome young men!” She elbowed her husband with a playful smile. “Reminds me of when I first met you.”

Mr. Byron Shields, who was conservatively and neatly dressed in a golf shirt and slacks, smiled warmly at his wife. “How could I forget?” He gave Louis and Zayn a wink. “My Josephine was always the bright spot in any crowd, and still is. Just look how she shines.”

Josephine patted Byron’s arm, then smiled conspiratorially at Louis and Zayn. “He was the most awkward and lovely man I had ever met. Look at that handsome face. I snatched him up before any of the other girls could.”

Louis’ smile grew, and he smiled fondly at the couple. Zayn voiced what Louis was also thinking then.

“You are a really beautiful couple.”

Josephine’s face creased into a sweet smile as she stared at Zayn starry-eyed. “Oh, you are too kind!” she exclaimed modestly.

“They’ve been together for fifty years this month,” Henri added.

Louis and Zayn shared impressed glances, then turned to face the couple. “Congratulations!” they said in unison.

Byron smiled fondly at Josephine. “The time just flew by, didn’t it?”

“Yes, dear,” she replied. “And you two?” she added, looking between Louis and Zayn. “How long have you been together?”

Henri hid a laugh behind his hand, and Louis shook his head. Zayn quickly informed the couple that he and Louis weren’t dating.

“And never will be,” Louis added, poking Zayn on the arm. “Ever.”

“We’re best friends,” Zayn clarified with a patient smile.

“Ah,” Josephine replied thoughtfully. “Well, you never know who you might meet here.”

“Oh, actually,” Louis said, “we’re here mainly to work. We’re not looking for...you know.”

“True love?” Josephine replied, resting her head against Byron’s arm. You know, neither were we when we met.”

“Fifty years later, here we are,” Byron said.

“That sounds like a great story, Mrs. Shields,” Zayn said, smiling at the couple.

“Oh, it is! And please, call me Jo. Let’s have dinner during your stay, and we’ll tell you all about it.”

Louis and Zayn agreed easily, and the couple excused themselves to go for a morning stroll. Louis was interrupted from his musing by Henri.

“Wise words, friends.”

Louis grinned at Henri. “Anyone we can set you up with, Henri?”

Henri chuckled and shook his head. “No, thank you. Been with my missus for five years now.”

“That’s great, Henri,” Zayn replied.

“I don’t know how she puts up with me,” Henri mused, deep in thought. Then he smiled brightly at Louis and Zayn. “But that’s love, isn’t it? Taking the bad with the good?”

“Sorry, Henri, but don’t ask me,” Louis quipped. “I couldn’t tell you.”

Henri smiled as if he knew something Louis didn’t. “One day you will. Then you come back and tell me all about it. Now,” he concluded, straightening up into a polite, professional stance, “better get back to work before the boss catches me.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Louis admitted. “Is your boss mean?”

“Oh, the meanest,” Henri laughed like he had just heard a good joke. “So, friends--can I direct you to some exciting activities?”

Zayn raised his eyebrows in interest. “Activities? Like what?”

Henri just put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and led the two towards the welcome pavilion. “Oh, wait and see.”

An hour later, Louis and Zayn exited the spa looking well-rested, clutching bottles of water. They had just experienced a full spa massage treatment, and Louis felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time that pesky knot on his right shoulder hadn’t ached. The massage therapist, a woman named Flora, had even slathered a coconut-scented moisturizer on Louis’ sunburn. Meanwhile, a glance at Zayn revealed his best friend’s skin was practically glowing. Louis looked down at his own arms and was surprised to see they appeared luminous and soft.

“Damn,” Zayn sighed happily, “I feel like a new man.”

“How does that line go? The Kurt Vonnegut one?” Louis asked. “‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.’”

“Do you think he was talking about a massage?” Zayn asked in amusement.

“Nah. But maybe this will serve as inspiration for my novel,” Louis mused.

“A novel about a masseuse?” Zayn joked. “Well, why not?”

Louis and Zayn chatted as they walked through the welcome pavilion, enjoying the air conditioning. Louis’ phone signaled a few Twitter notifications, but he left it in his pocket. Social media could wait. Instead, Zayn spotted a small table with a vacant chess set, and the two ended up spending the rest of the morning playing chess. All the distractions and anxiety that shadowed Louis from day to day were quieter today. The claustrophobia and panic he had felt in London, facing a looming deadline, had faded. Louis knew they were still there, but as he planned his next moves on the chessboard, he had never felt better.

After lunch, Louis and Zayn agreed to go to their respective villas to write.

“I’m gonna set a timer for two hours,” Zayn said, tapping on his phone screen. “Use the time however you want, but it should be related to writing. Then we can relax on the beach for awhile. Maybe go wild and order some tropical drinks. Deal?”

“Deal,” Louis said, sounding much more confident than he felt. He tried to ignore the dread creeping in from all sides. Louis was used to pulling all-nighters at his laptop. This should be a piece of cake.

The walk back to their villas was relatively quiet as both Louis and Zayn contemplated their projects. Louis bid Zayn good luck when they parted at his door, and then he walked down to his own. Inside, Louis found that housekeeping had tidied up Louis’ rooms. True, there wasn’t much of a mess yet, but the bed was freshly made, and a beautiful red flower now lay on his bedside table next to his family photo. Louis carried it into his kitchen, intending to put the flower in some water. He rummaged through cabinets containing cookware, utensils, and crockery before he found a glass tumbler to use. Louis filled it with water from the tap, then carefully placed the flower inside. He carried it to the dining table and set the tumbler adjacent to his laptop. Maybe it would give him some island inspiration.

Louis turned on his computer and stalled for a few minutes. He googled “Caribbean red flower” and searched until he landed on his flower, the Barbados Lily. He checked his email. Eventually, Louis gathered enough resolve to open the Hail Mary file in his documents. There it sat: one word at the top of an otherwise blank page:

_The._

That was it. The. It wasn’t even a unique word, Louis thought dejectedly. Just a common article. His finger hovered over the backspace button, but he hesitated to erase the word. Then Louis would have no words at all.

Louis’ fingers itched to grab his phone for a distraction. He would have enjoyed talking to one of his sisters for a while. But finally, Louis turned back to his screen. The cursor was blinking patiently next to his single word. A thought occurred to Louis then, and he smiled. He opened another window, navigated to YouTube, and clicked on his favorite 2000s playlist. Louis listened to the opening notes to Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” with a fond smile and began free writing. He thought back to those years, full of nostalgia, and let his fingers fly across the keyboard.

Louis paused his writing once to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. He stretched his back and neck along to the music (“Toxic” by Britney) and briefly wondered what kind of progress Zayn was making. They had passed the one hour mark already.

Louis returned to his chair, refusing to read and edit what he had written so far. Instead, he reread his last line for a clue where to go next:

_You were mine and we never said goodbye._

Louis raised his eyebrows at the serious tone his writing had taken, thinking back to his first real relationship. There was a guy named Ben who liked to write poetry under a shade tree in the park, and Louis spent one summer with him in senior school reading and writing love poems. Ben had gifted Louis a copy of _Love Letters of Great Men_ at the close of summer and promised to stay in touch. But the next week, Ben and his family moved away, and Louis never heard a single word from him again.

Now, a lifetime away from Ben and his love for end rhyme, Louis stared at the story unfolding on his screen. He had imagined flashes of building a treehouse with a “No Girls Allowed” sign at the entrance, and summer nights roasting marshmallows, and making mixtapes. Louis had been chasing the idea around for an hour, yet it was proving elusive. At the hour and a half point, Louis paused the playlist and rested his head on the table, staring curiously at the Barbados Lily. He was unfamiliar with flower meanings. So Louis began to make his own.

The exotic flower, Louis decided, could be a symbol for secret meetings. He imagined two kids growing up on an island like St. Lucia, becoming best friends and years later, lovers. Star-crossed lovers, Louis added with a small smile. They had to meet late at night down the beach, exchanging quirky gifts and stories about their days. They dreamed about a future where they could be together. And regardless of the eventual outcome, anytime one or the other wanted to meet, they would leave a Barbados lily as a sign.

Louis groaned and banged his forehead against the table. The plot was as cloying as the smell of the flower resting delicately next to him. No one would read that. Louis was about to cave when his phone buzzed, signaling a new text.

_Are u as desperate to quit as i am?_ Zayn had written.

Louis grinned and sighed in relief. He sat up in his chair and typed a response. _Yes. Save me._

_Put on swim trunks and meet me outside in five._

_Deal,_ Louis replied quickly. He closed the playlist window, then saved his free write and closed the laptop with a click. Louis sifted through his suitcase until he found a pair of faded blue swim trunks. He changed clothes, then grabbed his sunglasses, phone, and key card. By the time Louis met Zayn outside on the pathway, he was smiling again.

“Thank god,” Louis said in greeting.

“I know,” Zayn replied. “I’ve been chain smoking for an hour.”

“I wrote about Ben,” Louis said as he slipped on his sunglasses.

“Ben? As in _End-rhyme Ben?”_ Zayn asked. “Ok, good lord. Let’s get a drink or something.”

Louis let out some of the tension in his shoulders the way Flora had instructed him during the massage earlier. “I think we’ve earned it,” Louis replied.

Together, Louis and Zayn headed back to the bar, exhausted in the way only a writing marathon could render them. Louis’ phone buzzed again, but this time he left it in his pocket as he followed Zayn down the pathway.

Louis recognized Niall’s windswept hair and bright laugh as he and Zayn rounded the corner. Niall was leaning one elbow against the bar chatting with a middle-aged couple. Louis fought the urge to yell across the resort, instead waiting until he had reached a more appropriate distance.

“Niall! About time!” he called.

Niall’s head snapped up in Louis’ direction, and he broke out into a wide smile.

“Is that Louis?” Niall asked incredulously, quietly bidding the couple at the bar farewell. He watched Louis approach with a knowing smile. “Well, well, well. And what might you be doing on this lovely afternoon, Louis?”

“I’ve worked all I can handle today, and I need a break,” Louis confessed.

“A margarita break? Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Louis glanced curiously at Zayn, who hadn’t spoken a word since they arrived at the bar. Zayn was an introvert as well, but he was always polite. Louis shrugged and turned back to Niall.

“Margarita would be awesome, mate. Make that two, please.”

Niall stared with a surprised expression. “Work going that poorly?”

“Nah,” Louis replied, gesturing between himself and Zayn. “We’ve been on a writing marathon, actually. Right, Z?”

Zayn opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He was looking at Niall with a laser stare that had left lesser men in tears.

As if in slow motion, Louis watched Niall turn towards the unusually quiet Zayn. His smile froze, and his handsome, tanned face looked pale. He blinked once, then twice. Finally, Niall came to his senses and looked back at Louis. “Your, um, partner then?” he asked with apprehension. Was he blushing? Louis was puzzled.

“Only in the writing sense,” Louis said with a slight frown.

“Ah, ok,” Niall replied. He busied himself with grabbing ingredients for their margaritas. Niall continued to shoot Zayn covert glances that would have been hilarious to Louis if everything weren’t so suddenly tense. Niall fumbled with one of the delicate margarita glasses, and Louis cringed. Meanwhile, Zayn was still blinking thoughtfully in Niall’s direction.

“Um, frozen or on the rocks, guys?” Niall asked, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Louis elbowed Zayn emphatically, and Zayn said, “rocks, please.”

Niall nodded, biting his lip in concentration as if this was his first mixed drink. Gone was the cavalier attitude and sense of humor. Zayn had reduced the man to a ball of nerves. Meanwhile, Zayn himself was staring openly at Niall as if he had stumbled upon a mythical creature in the wild. Louis felt he would soon perish from secondhand embarrassment.

Cautiously, as if approaching a trapped wild animal, Zayn walked closer to the bar. Niall refused to look up, but his cheeks blushed a deeper pink.

“Hey, mate. It’s Niall, right?” Zayn asked, breaking the silence.

Niall, appearing momentarily stunned by Zayn speaking his name, looked up in surprise. “I, yeah. Niall. I’m Niall,” he stammered.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Zayn asked hesitantly.

Niall wiped a bead of sweat from his hairline. “Yes. No. I mean, um,” Niall replied. “Sorry, what was the question?”

Zayn nodded with empathy, then replied. “Did you know Louis hates avocados?”

Niall’s gaze turned to Louis, finally, confusion written on his features.

“He also refuses to enjoy mainstream music if it’s newer than 2011,” Zayn added.

Niall came back to his senses slowly and focused on Louis. “Why’s that, Lou?”

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but Zayn beat him to it. “Because he’s a damned hipster masquerading as a stoic writer.”

“Zayn knows all the words to the songs in _Hairspray!”_ Louis fired back.

“It’s a good soundtrack,” Niall admitted, nodding at Zayn. Zayn preened under the attention.

Louis knew a lost cause when he saw one. He rolled his eyes and jumped up on a barstool, just in time for Niall to place a beautiful margarita in front of him. One taste left Louis completely unbothered by Zayn spilling his secrets to Niall. “Niall, this is...wow.”

“Good, huh?” he asked, finally breaking into a genuine smile. “Good enough to get the dedication page in your next book?”

Louis laughed. “You wish, mate.”

Zayn claimed the barstool next to Louis and contently sipped his own drink when Niall set the glass in front of him.

“So, Zayn,” Niall said with a mischievous smile. “Tell me more about our friend Louis.”

Zayn had the audacity to crack his knuckles and give Niall a winning smile. “Where should I start?

Within an hour, Niall learned about as many Louis quirks and stories as Zayn felt he could get away with. Niall, for his part, had slowly warmed up to Zayn. They were chatting like old friends when Louis’ phone rang. He saw Liam’s name on the phone screen, then excused himself from the bar to take the call.

“Hello? Liam?” Louis began.

“Louis? Thank god,” Liam sighed. “I’ve been a nervous wreck all day.”

“I was just about to call you actually,” Louis fibbed.

“You saw the headlines, then?” Liam asked, sounding relieved.

Louis frowned. “What headlines? What’s going on, Li?”

“You mean you didn’t see them? Have you been online today?” Liam asked.

Louis felt a pang of guilt as he remembered the times he had ignored notifications that day. “Not exactly.”

“Oh god. Ok. Look, Lou,” Liam said, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you guys have been spotted.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “What? How?”

“The Daily Mail has been at it all day, but they’re not revealing their source. Go to Twitter and check your mentions.”

“Liam, you’re really freaking me out,” Louis replied, trying to stay calm. “What’s the big deal?”

“Just look at it,” Liam said patiently.

Louis sighed in frustration and clicked the Twitter app on his phone. In a matter of seconds, Louis saw his name splashed across the headlines.

_Author Louis Tomlinson making a comeback?_

_Trouble in paradise: Lit world’s bad boys spotted in Caribbean!_

_Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson get cozy at exclusive resort!_

And as Louis scrolled down further, he felt his calm begin to unravel. There, among more clickbait headlines, were a few photos of Louis and Zayn sitting on lounge chairs facing the now-familiar bay.

Louis clenched his jaw and replied to Liam on the phone. “What the fuck, Liam? Who did this?”

“I don’t know, Lou. Was hoping you could tell me, actually, so I could contact your lawyer. The resort has a strict policy on confidentiality.”

“Apparently not strict enough,” Louis scoffed, looking around for the source of the leaked story. There was nothing--or no one--out of the ordinary, though.

“Lou? You still there?” Liam asked.

“I’m here, yeah. Ok, so listen, I get that the invasion of privacy is pretty bad here. But can’t we just smooth it over with the press?”

Liam huffed a sigh, and Louis could easily picture the expression on his face: a mixture of anxiety, anger, and disappointment. “Lou, this story has gone viral. The good news is, you’ve gotten some free publicity, and your fans are buzzing about the new book. The bad news is, though, it’s just a matter of time until your publisher sees this--and wonders why you’re lounging on the beach instead of writing.”

A flash of anger left Louis considerably keyed up. “What do we do, Liam?”

“I have a plan,” Liam assured him. “It’s not great, but it’s something.”

“I’m listening.”

“You might want to engage more on social media, Lou. Drop hints that you’re writing, and fans are going to love the new book, etc.”

“There is no book, Liam,” Louis murmured. “I can’t lie to them.”

“I’d never ask you to,” Liam promised. “The other option is, we do nothing and hope it all blows over soon. If you don’t take the bait on Twitter, the press will probably get bored by tomorrow. But Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna have to buckle down and write something. Anything. Just give me something to work with by the end of your trip, and I’ll handle the politics. That’s my job.”

“Ok,” Louis whispered in response. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” Liam said confidently. “Now I’m going to put out a few fires, and I’ll check in with you in a few days. It’s really not that bad, ok Lou? Honestly. Just take your time.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Louis agreed. Deep down, though, his emotions were frantic and volatile. He felt a headache forming.

Liam ended the call, and then Louis stared down at his phone for a few moments. Now he had to break the news to Zayn. Louis tried to be an optimist in life, but even he could admit that their holiday might just be ruined.

Louis trudged back towards the bar, where Zayn and Niall were bent over something amusing on Zayn’s phone, judging by their expressions. Louis took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to swallow down even the hint of panic he was feeling. This was not the time.

“...and this is us at Louis’ first book signing. That’s Liam on the end, our friend and manager. He’s the one smiling like a proud father.”

“Pretty nice guy?” Niall asked.

“The nicest,” Zayn assured him. “Now, if you’d like to see the poetry reading for my first collection--”

“Zayn?” Louis asked as he approached Zayn and Niall.

Zayn turned around, still smiling. When he saw Louis’ expression, Zayn frowned. “Lou? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I know. It’s just...it’s kind of bad, ok? But don’t panic.”

“Is it the kids?” Zayn asked with wide eyes. “Is everyone alright?”

“Louis, come sit down before you fall down,” Niall suggested. “I’ll get you a water.”

Louis nodded and wordlessly climbed onto the barstool next to Zayn. He had to admit, he was feeling a little dehydrated. Or was that just the stress? Niall quickly filled a glass with ice and water, then set it down before Louis.

“Thanks, mate,” Louis replied, trying to smile and failing.

“Ok, now spill. Please. I’m getting anxious,” Zayn said.

Louis looked at Niall, then at Zayn. “I’m sorry, Z, ok? I just found out from Liam that we’ve been...someone has, like, _papped_ us. Here at the resort.”

Zayn’s eyes widened impossibly larger. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Louis answered, taking a sip of his water. “The headlines are shitty as usual.”

“Oh god,” Zayn sighed. “That whole secret dating thing?”

“Something like that.”

“Hold on,” Niall said, shaking his head slowly. “That can’t be right. The Landings has a confidentiality policy thicker than my arm. How did this happen?”

Louis stared down at the tabletop. “I don’t know. A guest? A staff member? Does it matter?”

“Why are you saying that, Lou?” Zayn asked.

“Because when word gets back to my publisher that I’ve sprung for a luxury holiday instead of dutifully writing, Liam thinks they might reconsider my contract.”

“Fuck,” Zayn said morosely.

“Exactly.”

Niall’s voice brought Louis out of his stupor then. He appeared to be having an urgent, whispered conversation with someone on the phone. Niall nodded a few times, then ended the call. He turned back to Louis with a grim expression.

“Security is quietly sweeping the grounds now. If they see someone out of place, they have the manager’s permission to detain them. He’s on his way here now.”

“Oh my god,” Louis said, shoulders slumping. “Niall, I’m sorry. I just...don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll sort this out, ok? Listen, I should be the one apologizing. I’m usually on the lookout for paps and reporters, seeing as we cater to high-profile guests.”

“Not your fault, Niall,” Louis replied. “Besides, we’ve been in some deeper shit than this,” he added, nodding towards Zayn. “We always make it out alive.”

“Fuck yes,” Zayn agreed, resting a hand reassuringly on Louis’ arm. “We’ll get through this one, too.”

While Louis navigated back to the Twitter headlines for Zayn’s benefit, Niall stared off into the distance biting his nails. Something he saw in the distance made him smile in relief.

“Thank god,” Niall said, pulling up his own stool to sit on across from Louis.

Louis turned to look as well, and saw a man talking into his phone striding towards them quickly. He appeared to be gesturing to emphasize whatever he was saying, but from the distance Louis could only guess what. Louis took a few more sips of water, trying to regulate his heartbeat.

The man picked up the pace and began jogging towards them on long, tan legs. In the gathering twilight, Louis picked out a now-familiar head of curls and a handsome face currently frowning, jaw clenched.

“Harry?” Zayn asked, eyebrows raised.

“Just in time,” Niall sighed as Harry approached the bar.

Harry looked from Niall to Louis and then to Zayn, then back to Niall. “What’s going on, Niall?” he asked, slightly winded from his brisk jog. He wiped sweat off his forehead, still frowning.

“Harry? The photographer?” Louis asked, utterly confused. He turned towards Niall. “What is he doing here?”

Niall glanced at Louis and held up a finger for him to wait. Then he spoke to Harry. “Paps, H. I don’t know how many or even when.”

“How did this happen?” Harry asked, eyes boring into Niall’s. “I don’t understand.”

“All I know is, they tagged these two on the beach. Now it’s online.”

“Who...sorry, who are you guys?” Harry asked, looking closer at Louis and Zayn.

Zayn replied in a remarkably calm voice, “Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson, um, sir. We’re writers.”

Harry nodded and appeared to be taking it all in. “Famous writers.”

Zayn glanced at Louis, who nodded minutely. Then Zayn nodded as well and said yes.

Louis found himself staring at Harry--really looking closely--and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The photographer had swapped his pink polo for a loose Rolling Stones tee, and Louis noticed with a start that Harry was barefoot. It was exactly what Louis would have expected from an off-the-clock resort wedding photographer, if he had ever actually thought about it. But Louis realized he felt agitated looking at Harry.

“Mate, sorry, but what are you doing here?” Louis asked. The question came out a bit sharper than he intended.

Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet Louis’ with an unreadable expression. “Me? I’m doing my job,” he replied.

Louis narrowed his eyes, waiting for Harry to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, he had already turned back to Niall and was murmuring something in a low voice.

“What the fuck, Lou?” Zayn whispered, never taking his eyes off Niall and Harry.

“Well,” Louis whispered back at the reprimand, “what is he even doing here?”

Zayn finally faced Louis and opened his mouth to reply, but Louis interrupted.

“Nevermind. Hey,” Louis called in Niall and Harry’s direction. “It’d be great if I could prevent this panic attack before it happens. Can someone please tell me if a manager is, in fact, coming?”

“But Lou,” Niall said with confusion, “Harry is--”

“A photographer, I know,” Louis answered. “And since you’re here, I’d like to know how many other photographers there are at the resort. Couldn’t one of them have taken the photos?”

Harry turned to Louis with a calculating expression. “Are you accusing one of my assistants of outing your location to the press?”

Louis felt heat rise in his cheeks. “I don’t know. That’s the thing; I don’t know anything about how the resort works.”

“Louis, listen--” Niall said.

Louis sighed and shook his head, continuing on as if Niall hadn’t spoken. “And honestly, if I’m going to lose my entire career over this trip, I’d at least like to know who to direct my manager to.”

“Louis--” Zayn said patiently, but was once again cut off.

“What?” Louis hissed. “No one is doing anything. Now I have to make the call to Lottie and talk _her_ down as well. I just, I need some fresh air.”

Louis picked up his phone and stood to go call Lottie, but Harry’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Louis?”

Louis turned slowly on the spot, fairly certain his blood pressure was through the roof. “What.”

“Listen, I understand you’re upset, and I’m really sorry. Please just give me a moment to make a call, and--”

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Louis in various stages of surprise at the single word. Louis shook his head, trying to check the swell of panic taking residence in his chest.

“No,” Harry echoed, looking truly confused.

“No,” Louis confirmed. “As in, _no_ , I will not sit here endlessly waiting for help. I don’t even know why you’re here, Harry. Here’s what I want someone--you, I guess--to do.”

Harry put his hands on his hips, bracing himself for a potential meltdown like Louis and Zayn almost witnessed with the wedding party earlier. Just the thought of being compared to a crazy bride had Louis seeing red.

“Stop telling me what to do. I am fine. And in the meantime, for god’s sake, let me talk to the manager.”

Zayn groaned and dropped his head to the bartop in frustration, and Niall opened and closed his mouth, looking even more panicked than Louis felt. And Harry. Harry’s expression changed to a tight smile, and he nodded. Then he straightened up to his full height behind the bar.

“That would be me.”

Louis’ jaw dropped, and his mind swirled in confusion. He glanced at Zayn, then Niall, and then back to Harry, who was tilting his head in patient consideration of Louis’ reaction.

“You...what?” Louis asked. He felt his axis was tilting under his feet.

“I. Am. The. Manager,” Harry enunciated clearly.

Louis cringed, because that was all he was capable of doing at the moment. Then he slid back onto the barstool.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis breathed. “I am so sorry, I--”

“And while I may not look like someone who can effectively run a resort--I am young, I’ll give you that--I am fully capable of handling your press disaster. That is, if you will allow me to do my job.”

Louis blinked wide-eyed at Harry and found himself nodding. “Y-yeah. Ok.”

Harry nodded politely, but the tightness around his mouth betrayed his frustration. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to coordinate with security. After I put on some shoes. Gentlemen, you can feel free to return to your rooms, and I will update you when I have some news.”

With that, Harry nodded at Niall and turned on his heel to walk away. Louis burned with embarrassment where he sat on the barstool, still in shock. After an awkward silence in which Louis fervently prayed that the ground beneath his feet would open and swallow him whole, Zayn finally spoke.

“Damn, Lou.”

“I know,” Louis replied, feeling about an inch tall.

“I mean, _damn_ ,” Niall added. “I haven’t seen Harry’s manager face in weeks. Forgot how scary it is. Jesus, I need a drink. Anyone want one?”

Louis just buried his face in his hands and groaned. “How bad is it, guys? Be honest.”

Zayn just scoffed, but Niall turned from making a few shots with a thoughtful expression. “Well, put it this way. He won’t be sending you the fancy Landings Christmas card this year.”

“And he may kick us out on our asses,” Zayn added, accepting a vodka shot from Niall.

Niall slid a shot glass in front of Louis and said, “Take it. You’re only gonna feel worse later.”

Louis peered between his fingers up and Niall and sighed. “I feel terrible now.”

Zayn muttered something suspiciously like _good,_ and Niall stared off into the distance. “You know, I once pissed him off myself. He had to pull rank on me.”

“What happened then?” Louis asked.

Niall chuckled at the memory. “No one really felt good about it, especially Harry. That made it worse. He’s the best of the best, mate. Sweetest guy I’ve ever met.”

“So, what you’re saying is, he’ll never forgive me,” Louis said with a sinking feeling.

“Oh, no, he’ll forgive you,” Niall hurried to add. “He just may never speak to you again.”

Wordlessly, Louis took the shot. Then he turned to Zayn with a sad smile. “Will you keep me posted? I want to call Lottie.”

Zayn nodded, mirroring Louis’ expression. “Yeah, Lou. I’m gonna stay here for a bit.”

Louis stood from his barstool and nodded farewell at Niall. “Night.”

“Night, Louis,” Niall replied with a small wave.

The walk back to Louis’ villa felt as lonely and sad as he thought he deserved. Louis tried to ignore the feeling that he had ruined something, though he didn’t know what. Then he slipped into his quiet villa and dialed Lottie.

“Hang on, Lou. You said _what?”_ Lottie nearly shrieked into the phone a few minutes later.

“I know, Lots. It’s bad,” Louis said.

“Louis. What the hell were you thinking?” she hissed. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t know,” Louis lamented. “I was upset and just didn’t think. He hates me now.”

“Maybe not, Lou. From what you told me, he’s a really good guy.”

“That actually makes it worse, Lots,” Louis replied.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, babe,” Lottie sighed.

“Tell me I’m going to survive this social media catastrophe, for one thing.”

“Oh, Lou. I know you can do it. Look how far you’ve come the past few years. You’re gonna be ok, you know?”

“Yeah...I will,” Louis said.

“How’s Zayn taking this?” Lottie asked.

“I think he’ll be ok,” Louis mused. “We both will, right?”

“Right,” Lottie said confidently. “Look on the bright side, Lou.”

“Right...now, what should I do about Harry?”

“Well, I would say just stay out of his way for a few days, but this is you we’re talking about.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Lottie said patiently, “that you’re not gonna rest until you track him down and apologize.”

Louis groaned and nodded. “I know.”

“Put yourself in his shoes, Lou. If the roles were reversed, how would you feel?”

“Like...really fucking insulted,” Louis conceded. “Shit.”

“Ok, well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Track him down and apologize,” Louis vowed. “After I smoke, though. I’m still kind of freaked out,” he admitted.

Lottie hummed sympathetically. “You’ve had a day, Lou. Promise you’ll get some rest eventually.”

“I will,” Louis said with a small smile. “Love you lots, Lots,” he added.

“Love you too, you misfit,” Lottie replied. “Talk tomorrow?”

“That’d be great.”

Louis said goodnight and hung up the phone. He sat at his empty dining table for a moment, gathering the courage to get up and move. Louis’ instinct was to hide in his villa for a day or two, or at least until he could think about Harry without crushing guilt. But Louis knew Lottie was right. So he got up from the table, taking his phone and key card, and walked out the door.

Out on the pathway that circled the resort, Louis realized he had no idea how to find Harry. He wondered where someone might go to get away from guests and staff for a while. He let his feet carry him past the various villas of the now-quiet resort.

Louis ambled for a few minutes, trying to enjoy the tranquility of the Landings at night. The evening was cloaked in absolute quiet due to the late hour. Louis’ creative mind perked up at the idea of exploring a resort like the Landings in the dead of night. Eventually, he circled around to the deserted bar and stared out across the sand towards the bay. The water lapped at the shoreline, measured and unhurried. Above the bay, the moon hung bright. Its beams caressed the placid water, and Louis watched for a moment in silence. He tried to absorb the peace of the evening, but his mind was swirling with troubled thoughts. A few moments later, Louis slipped off his sandals and took off across the smooth, cool sand towards the bay.

There wasn’t a soul around as Louis walked to the water’s edge and dipped his toes in. Surprisingly, the water was warm on Louis’ feet. It was funny, Louis decided; he had left his solitude and empty flat to travel across the Atlantic, only to end up a world away. And yet, he was just as lonely here as he was before. Louis was beginning to think it was a chronic condition. He skimmed his toes over the surface of the water, deep in thought. Seconds or minutes later, a voice interrupted his musings.

“There’s jellies in the water tonight.”

Louis gasped, whirling around on the spot. He clutched his throat at the sight of Harry sprawled on what appeared to be a quilt on the sand. Harry stared at Louis for a long moment. “Probably those little crabs in the sand, too.”

“Jesus,” Louis hissed, pulse pounding in his ears. “You scared me! When did you get here?”

Harry quirked a small smile. “Half an hour ago. You were pretty lost in thought.”

“Oh my god,” Louis said, valiantly attempting to relax his tense muscles. “Were you going to say something, or?”

Harry bit back a smile, his eyes shining dark green in the night. “Actually, I was waiting to see if you were going to break out in song or something. You look like a Disney kind of guy.”

Louis rolled his eyes and braced his hands on his hips. “What, like you don’t know all the words to ‘Part of Your World’ and occasionally recreate that scene in available bodies of water? Or is that just me?”

Harry laughed under his breath. “Touche.”

Louis scanned the shoreline for any signs of lurking jellyfish and carefully stepped back from the water. “Do jellyfish lurk, Harry?” he asked.

“Lurk? Well...not exactly. I think they just float happily, when they’re not on the hunt anyway,” Harried replied slowly.

Louis took in what Harry was saying and nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.” He suddenly felt very aware of the space he was occupying while Harry sat on his blanket in the sand. Louis never quite knew what to do with his hands in these situations.

“Want to sit?” Harry asked. “I can make room.”

Louis met Harry’s eyes carefully, searching for any hesitation. But Harry just gazed back steadily. Louis walked closer towards Harry as he spread out more of the faded patchwork quilt on the sand.

“Thanks,” Louis murmured as he sat down, leaving a polite distance between them.

“No problem,” Harry answered.

Louis was at a loss for words, but his senses were working on overload. He felt hyper-aware of everything around him: the sound of the waves skimming the shore, the glimmer of moonlight on the water, his own heartbeat. And Harry. Harry was close enough that Louis could smell his freshly-washed hair and see the curve of his lips as he smiled calmly at the bay. Harry seemed to radiate calm beside Louis, sitting still but relaxed. Louis felt suddenly sleepy. He traced his fingers over the soft, colorful quilt.

“This is really nice, Harry,” Louis said, breaking the silence. “Did someone make it for you?”

Harry followed Louis’ line of sight to the quilt beneath them and smiled fondly. “Yeah. I’ve had it for years. Thank you,” he added quietly.

Louis nodded. He and Harry sat in silence for a few more moments, and then Harry spoke.

“What are you doing out tonight, Louis?” Harry asked, not unkindly. He stared curiously at Louis.

Louis broke eye contact and gazed down at Harry’s quilt, trying to string together a sentence. “Couldn’t sleep. Was looking for you, actually.”

“Oh,” Harry said with a start, as if he was caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because I was rude to you, and I want to apologize,” Louis replied as he carefully met Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded for a moment and offered a small smile. “Apology accepted, Louis.”

Louis blinked wordlessly at Harry, and Harry’s smile grew. “Did you think I’d hold a grudge?”

Louis shook his head quickly, desperate not to offend Harry again. “No! No. Sorry, I didn’t. Besides,” he added, attempting a smile of his own, “Niall told me you wouldn’t.”

Harry huffed a laugh. “Subtle, isn’t he?”

“He said you were the nicest guy he knows,” Louis admitted. “And I believe him.”

Harry ducked his head, suddenly shy. “Thank you. But how about you give me a chance to prove it?”

Louis frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked in confusion. “You already accepted my apology.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes hesitantly. “Yeah, but like...I was kind of rude, too. I snapped at you even though I knew you were upset.”

Louis studied Harry’s rueful expression, then shook his head. “You weren’t rude, Harry. You were doing your job. Which I now know is, in fact, your job.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis assured him. “You were really assertive yet professional. It was kind of impressive.”

Harry shook his head and gently elbowed Louis’ arm. “I was bossy. It felt strangely empowering.”

Louis laughed and elbowed Harry back. “Good. Happy to help with that.”

Harry laughed then, too. “Thanks, I guess.”

Louis realized he had just been staring into Harry’s eyes for a bit longer than necessary, and looked up at the moon. Maybe Harry couldn’t see him blush in the dark.

“So, what’s gonna happen with your novel?” Harry finally asked.

Louis shrugged. “I’m gonna write it. Quickly. It’s all I can do.”

“I’m still reviewing the security tapes from today,” Harry explained. “Also, I really need to apologize to the security team. I was kind of overbearing while briefing them today.”

“You?” Louis grinned. “I don’t believe it, no way.”

Harry grinned back. “I kind of went drill sergeant on them. They’re never gonna let me live that down.”

Louis snorted a laugh. “I’m trying to picture it. Did you throw around words like ‘duty’ and ‘vigilance’?”

“Excuse you,” Harry sniffed, sticking his nose in the air in mock offense, “but I took it a step further, actually. I vividly remember also quoting Churchill at one point.”

Louis covered his giggles with a hand, but couldn’t seem to stop them. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Mate, I’ve been waiting all my life to lead my troops into battle. It was fate.”

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“What? I like a good power trip every once in awhile. Keeps everyone on their toes,” Harry replied.

“I’m onto you, Mr. Harry no-last-name-given. You’re actually a total nerd, aren’t you?”

“It’s Styles,” Harry said emphatically. “And yes, I am. Got a problem with it?”

“None whatsoever,” Louis said, laughter slowly dying down. “You’re in good company.”

Harry smiled at Louis enigmatically. “I think I am, actually.”

Louis was charmed and a little too pleased at the comment, and he shook his head. He stretched out his legs across the quilt, content to spend as much time talking to Harry as Harry would offer.

And he did just that.

In the middle of a debate about Marvel superheroes, Louis felt a deep yawn escape him. He had been explaining mid-sentence why Iron Man trumped Captain America when it happened. He hadn’t checked his phone in what felt like ages, and he had no idea of the time.

As if anticipating Louis’ question, Harry checked the time on his watch. “Oh god. It’s two a.m.,” Harry groaned. “And you’re wrong about Cap, by the way. He’s clearly superior.”

Louis shook his head stubbornly and slowly rose to his feet. “Absolutely not.” Louis did concede to offering Harry a hand to help him up.

“Thanks,” Harry said around a yawn as he stood up.

Louis tried to ignore the feeling of Harry’s grip on his hand, and the way they were suddenly standing quite close. Harry released Louis’ hand gently, and his fingertips brushed across Louis’ palm. It was an innocent touch, actually very sweet, which didn’t explain why Louis suddenly remembered Harry snapping his fingers at the wedding party to direct them that morning. It also didn’t explain why Louis was consumed with a vivid mental image of Harry snapping his fingers at Louis, alone in Harry’s bedroom, and telling him what to do. And what? _What the fuck,_ Louis thought breathlessly as he tried to erase the mental picture.

“I have no idea; you tell me,” Harry replied, and yes, Louis had actually said that bit out loud.

“Oops,” Louis said. “No brain-to-mouth filter. Time for bed.”

Harry grinned. “You were pretty lost in thought. What were you thinking about?”

And no, nope. Louis was definitely not going there. Mere hours ago, Louis was confident that Harry truly hated him. Now was not the time to indulge his fantasies concerning Harry.

“Um, nothing,” Louis said, biting his lip. “Sorry. Here, let’s fold up your quilt.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, as if deciding if he wanted to press the issue or not. Eventually, he nodded and reached down to retrieve the antique quilt. He shook the excess sand off, then handed Louis an edge of the quilt. Together, they folded it neatly. Louis was refusing to think about having sex with Harry, and Harry was absently humming “Under the Sea.” When Harry finally gathered the quilt in his arms, he offered Louis a small smile.

“May I walk you to your room?” he asked.

Louis tried to stifle the hope blooming in his chest. Harry clearly didn’t mean it like that. “I can get back ok, Harry. Don’t worry about it.”

“I know you can. That’s why I asked _may I_ instead of _can I,”_ Harry replied.

Louis sighed, but felt a smile growing on his face. “I guess. Sure.”

Walking back across the resort in the middle of the night next to Harry felt surreal. Louis worried that at any moment he might wake up and find this had all been a dream. They walked slowly, occasionally stopping for Harry to point out things Louis may not know about the resort. The cadence of Harry’s words coupled with his low, quiet voice reminded Louis of the waves they had watched lapping at the shore. Louis felt he might fall asleep on his feet. He was so sleepy and relaxed, he almost walked past his own door.

“Oh,” Louis said with a start, “this is mine.”

“Yours and Zayn’s?” Harry asked as Louis unlocked his door.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Zayn is next door. We’re not like, um, together, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh,” Harry replied with a nod. “Ok. Well, I’ll say goodnight then, and let you get some rest.”

“Ok,” Louis said, crossing the threshold. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Yes. I’ll be here. Goodnight, Louis.”

“Night, Harry,” Louis said, turning to flash Harry a sleepy smile. Then he closed the door with a quiet click, ignoring the part of his brain that screamed _stay._ Louis could hear Harry’s footsteps as he walked away, back to wherever he was going. There was no way he would ever be interested in Louis, Louis reprimanded himself as he began his bedtime routine. Harry was just a nice guy, like Niall said. So Louis slipped into his bed alone and gave into the exhaustion that was manifesting as a headache. His last thought before drifting off was the feel of Harry’s hand curving around his on the beach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 4-7 feature a deaf character. During my research for this fic, one of the most profound philosophies I read was this: deafness is a diversity in human experience, not a disability. My goal in introducing a deaf character is to spread awareness and acceptance of the deaf and hard of hearing community with the hope that we all will advocate for it. 
> 
> If you would like to learn more about advocacy for the deaf community, consider visiting the World Federation of the Deaf here: wfdeaf.org.
> 
> September is Deaf Awareness Month.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

\--Maya Angelou

The digital clock on the bedside table read 6:30 when Louis woke the first time. “6:30...a.m.?” Louis mumbled, eyes bleary from sleep. “Nope.” He promptly rolled over onto his other side and burrowed deeper into the fluffy comforter on his bed. The next time Louis awoke, he didn’t look at the clock. He just stretched his limbs out like a starfish and enjoyed the feeling of being well-rested. Louis wasn’t all that surprised to discover it was now 9:30. He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept through the morning without a phone call, text, or Twitter notification. Louis smiled sleepily as he sat up in bed. Zayn was right, he could now admit. This holiday was a fantastic idea.

Louis hadn’t yet unpacked his glasses, so his phone screen was a little blurry as he picked it up. Louis squinted at the tiny words of a text from Zayn.

_You awake?_

_...guess not._

Louis was surprised to see Zayn had sent the message at 8 a.m. Apparently, he had waited a few minutes for a reply, and then added,

_I’m going to eat breakfast. Txt me when you’re up._

Louis couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty for keeping Zayn waiting when he had such a good night’s sleep. He typed a reply to Zayn, then swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. He planned to take a very hot shower before breakfast, in keeping with his self-care morning. Louis adjusted the water in his shower to a setting sure to scald his skin, and then his phone dinged a notification.

To Louis’ _be there in twenty,_ Zayn had replied with _sure,_ followed by a winking emoji.

Louis frowned for a moment, then shrugged. Who knew what Zayn was talking about? Louis stepped into the steamy shower and promptly forgot about the message.

Louis emerged from his villa twenty-five minutes later feeling like a new man. The complimentary shampoo and conditioner smelled like citrus, and the hot water had only improved Louis’ mood. He had dressed in a basic grey tank and his denim shorts again. As Louis walked towards the bar, he felt a warm breeze ruffle his hair and smiled.

When Louis arrived at the bar, he was relieved to find Niall polishing the bartop and whistling a tune. Zayn sat nearby at a shaded table, immersed in the journal in front of him. Louis smiled fondly and greeted him with a _good morning._

Zayn lifted his hand for Louis to wait a moment, then scribbled something quickly into his journal. He flipped it closed and then looked up at Louis.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Sleep well?” Zayn asked with an innocent smile. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and Louis was confused.

“I...yeah, thanks. Guess I was exhausted.”

“I bet,” Zayn replied, his smile widening. “Hey, Niall!” Zayn called over his shoulder. “Louis finally made it.”

Niall’s head popped up, and his friendly expression morphed into something suspiciously like glee. He watched Louis approach the bar with a knowing smile.

“Well, good morning,” Niall greeted him. “About time.”

Louis looked around at the otherwise-empty bar. “Am I late for something?”

Niall laughed like Louis had just told a hilarious joke. Meanwhile, Zayn had gravitated towards Louis and was staring at Louis’ face with open curiosity. “A little late to the party, maybe.”

“Party?” Louis asked, looking between Zayn and Niall. “Ok, what is happening right now?”

Zayn’s eyes flashed towards Niall’s, and the two shared a smile.

“Harry beat you here this morning, mate,” Niall replied.

“He seemed a little... _exhausted_ as well,” Zayn added.

“Told us not to disturb your sleep this morning,” Niall chuckled. “Said you were probably tired.”

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “Apparently, some of us had a long night.”

“Wait,” Louis interjected. “Why was Harry talking about me?”

Niall bit his lip to control a laugh. “Guess you were on his mind.”

“Probably on other things of his as well,” Zayn murmured.

“Zayn,” Louis gasped in shock. “What the hell?”

“I think what Zayn means is,” Niall explained, “you guys sorted out your differences.”

“Mostly with rigorous hate sex,” Zayn said. He had the audacity to giggle.

Louis felt his face turn bright pink at the implication. He stared open-mouthed between his two alleged friends, who were both snickering now.

“Aww, Lou, you’re blushing,” Zayn commented. “No need to feel embarrassed.”

“Yeah, mate. We’re not judging,” Niall added quickly.

“Guys,” Louis said flatly, “Harry and I didn’t have sex, of the hate variety or any other.”

“Sure, we know,” Zayn said.

“I’m serious!” Louis protested. “All we did was talk.”

“Ooh, Niall, they’re _talking,”_ Zayn giggled.

“That’s really special, Louis. I’m very happy for you,” Niall said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned. “I’m telling you, we just sat right there,” he said, gesturing towards the beach, “and talked.”

“Louis.”

“Zayn,” Louis said, crossing his arms.

“You had a rom com moment in the sand,” Zayn said patiently.

“Sitting under the stars, listening to the waves,” Niall sighed happily. “That’s sweet.”

“Ok, you guys are clearly overreacting,” Louis said impatiently. “It wasn’t like that. I apologized for being an asshole to Harry, and then we talked for a bit. It’s like you said, Niall; he’s just a nice guy.”

Niall nodded slowly. “Very nice.”

“Hang on,” Louis said sharply. “Did _Harry_ say we had sex?”

“Oh, no,” Zayn replied. “He didn’t say a thing.”

“See?” Louis exclaimed.

“He just blushed and refused to look anyone in the eye,” Niall recalled fondly. “Oh! And he left you this,” he said, picking up something from behind the bar.

Louis took the offered gift, which was a DVD case. When he looked closer, Louis could see it was _Captain America: Civil War._ A pink post-it note contained a brief note in loopy cursive:

_Good morning! Please enjoy watching Cap kick Iron Man’s arse. :) xx Harry_

Louis smiled fondly and rolled his eyes at the kind gesture. He quickly checked his smile and schooled his features into something like nonchalance. “Ok...so?” he asked.

“ _So_ ,” Niall explained patiently, propping his chin on his hand and smiling dreamily, “he likes you. It’s cute.”

Louis sighed, realizing that nothing he could say would convince his friends otherwise. “Alright. Fine, whatever. Now, please, for the love of all things holy, can I get some coffee?”

Niall wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, then wordlessly extended a hand to high five Zayn. Zayn slapped his palm against Niall’s victoriously.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Zayn said smugly.

Louis simply stared at the two x’s on Harry’s note and tried not to dwell on it too much.

After an otherwise calm breakfast, Louis and Zayn agreed to try one of their go-to writing exercises. Louis dropped Harry’s DVD next to his family portrait on the bedside table in his villa, grabbed a spiral notebook, then met Zayn on the pathway outside.

“Which direction?” Zayn asked, looking around at the resort.

“Let’s do counterclockwise,” Louis suggested. Zayn nodded in agreement, and the two set off walking.

Louis and Zayn had been doing the walk and reflect exercise for years now. The rules were simple enough that they could perform it anywhere. After strolling outside for about twenty minutes, just observing their surroundings, Zayn and Louis would then find somewhere to sit and write. At that point, it was just a matter of jotting down their thoughts about the walk and whatever else was on their minds. Finally, the two would reconvene to share what they had written and discuss each other’s strengths.

Zayn preferred not to talk much as they completed the exercise, so the two walked around the resort in companionable silence. Louis noted the sights and sounds of the Landings mid-morning: the low buzz of families chatting by the pool, and the occasional shrieks of joy as children splashed into the water and played; dappled sunlight filtering through the strategically-placed trees; subtle classical guitar music from the sound system of the welcome pavilion; the sound of his own feet on the pathway as he and Zayn walked around the other side of the resort. As they concluded the first stage of the exercise, Louis and Zayn began searching for a quiet place to sit and write.

Zayn gravitated towards a lounge chair facing the bay, under the shade of an umbrella. He sat and stretched his legs out in the sun, then opened his care-worn journal and began to write. Louis, on the other hand, retraced his steps back to the pool. He scanned the pool area for a slightly secluded place to sit, preferable far enough that the kids in the pool didn’t splash his notebook. Louis found an empty lounge chair in a shaded corner beside the pool. He slipped off his sandals and then got comfortable on the chair. Louis took in the typical details of a pool in summer, and noticed that there were only a few children still playing in the water. He imagined that as the lunch hour approached, the small crowd would thin out even more. Louis dutifully opened his notebook, turned past the page of his doodles of sharks, and stared down at a clean, blank page.

Louis and Zayn hadn’t planned a prompt or opening sentence for the writing portion of the exercise, so Louis pondered for a moment. He had relative privacy for the first time that morning, and finally allowed himself to think about his conversation with Harry. Once he had overcome his initial hesitation, Louis found that talking to Harry was actually enjoyable. Despite the fact that Louis thought Harry might be an introvert, too, Harry had the talent of making Louis feel comfortable. Louis recalled how that had felt, sitting on the beach. Harry was charming, clearly, but he was also what Louis classified as authentic: thoughtful, kind, witty, observant. Louis had felt at ease talking to Harry, and was content to let their conversation meander where it may. And while they didn’t touch on heavy or personal topics, Louis felt that Harry would be a good person to really talk to. That is, if Louis had the guts.

Louis stared absently at the other guests around the pool, not really processing any details. When he looked down at the blank page in front of him, Louis noticed with a start that he had already written something.

 _Lying on the beach as the sun blew out,_ Louis read in his familiar cursive.

He had no idea where it had come from, or where it was going, but Louis shrugged and went with it. For several minutes, Louis sat in his lounge chair, writing at a relaxing pace. Slowly, people began packing up their pool toys and towels. The children climbed out of the pool reluctantly and dried off. Eventually, Louis was left alone in satisfying peace.

For some reason, the character that was unfolding on Louis’ page was a lot like Niall. Louis could easily envision this version of Niall as a struggling musician, maybe in L.A., playing small gigs in bars night after night. Fiction-Niall had a labrador retriever named Charlie and a tiny flat in the city. Louis smiled as he dressed Fiction-Niall in ripped jeans and a vintage Eagles tee. He had the same bright blue eyes as real Niall, and the same contagious laugh. But Fiction-Niall had a crush on the soulful piano player at a nearby hotel restaurant, and spent his hard-earned tip money buying overpriced beers and watching the pianist play. Maybe one night, Fiction-Niall worked up the courage to request a song. “Tiny Dancer,” maybe. And maybe after the pianist’s set, he struck up a shy conversation and discovered that he and Fiction-Niall shared a love for 90’s rom coms like _10 Things I Hate About You._ Maybe they met up for coffee later that week and talked for two hours. Maybe they had a movie marathon. Eventually, Louis mused, they ended up at the beach and Fiction-Niall brought his guitar. The pianist watched Fiction-Niall play ballads by Journey with a fond smile.

Despite the differences the two might face down the line, Fiction-Niall and his soulful pianist made beach evenings a tradition.

Louis took a moment to shake out the tension in his hands, and he scanned the words he had concluded with:

_They could never shut us down._

Louis acknowledged that it might have been a little heavy-handed, but it had been fun to write. While he waited for the rest of the hour to pass, Louis closed his notebook and began scrolling through his phone. He heard bare feet slapping on the pavement around the pool, and looked up to see a young girl enter the pool. She appeared to be alone. Louis watched in mild curiosity as the girl carefully placed a phone on the table beside a vacant lounge chair. She looked about eight years old. The girl was black and wore a pink and white striped swimsuit. She slipped on a pair of sunglasses that appeared to be a bit large for her face, then walked to the steps of the pool. As she entered the water and began to play, Louis turned back to his notebook. He flipped it open to the next blank page and doodled absently, waiting for the writing activity time to elapse.

One minute, Louis was drawing stick figures of his family at the beach, and the next moment he was awakened by a gentle yet insistent poking on his arm. Louis blinked in confusion and turned to the source of the poking. Beside him, the young girl from the pool stood with a wide smile. Her sunglasses sat propped on the top of her head after her swim.

“Oh god,” Louis sighed, relaxing his tense muscles enough to rest his head back against the chair. “What time is it?”

The girl shrugged, still smiling. She pointed curiously at Louis’ notebook, which featured a full stick-figure family now. Louis followed her line of sight, then looked back up at her with a sheepish smile.

“I’m not an artist, so what?” he joked.

Just as before, the girl didn’t reply. She must have been shy, Louis figured. Louis checked the time on his phone and felt his eyes widen comically. The writing hour had ended fifteen minutes ago.

“Shit,” Louis mumbled under his breath. Then his head snapped up to meet the girl’s eyes. “Don’t repeat that, ok?”

The girl’s smile never wavered. She just blinked serenely at Louis for a moment.

Louis shrugged, then gathered up his notebook and phone and sat up straight. “You’re a quiet one, huh? Well, that’s okay.”

The girl mirrored Louis’ shrug and tentatively sat down next to Louis with an expectant expression. It reminded Louis of his little sisters’ faces when he was cooking dinner and they wanted ice-cream instead. _Pleaseee, Lou,_ they would say, batting their eyes. _Can we have a treat? We won’t tell._

Louis prepared to get up and bid the girl goodbye, and then Louis saw someone approach in his peripheral vision. Louis glanced over distractedly, then did a double take. Harry was strolling around the pool walkway towards Louis and the girl at his side. He was dressed in a spotless white polo and his khaki shorts. Harry noticed Louis and broke out into a wide smile. He waved, and Louis waved back. Then Harry turned his gaze towards the girl and shook his head in mock-disappointment. Beside him, the girl covered her mouth as giggled escaped.

Louis watched in fascination as Harry lifted his hand and tapped his watch emphatically. The girl bit her lip and made a more elaborate gesture in response. Then she slid the sunglasses down her face and smiled smugly. Harry huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes, but he was grinning.

Harry stopped about three feet away from the girl and braced his hands on his hips. His eyes flashed to Louis’ and he winked. Then he turned back to the girl with a wry smile. He raised his hands and began gesturing to her. As he did, he spoke for Louis’ benefit.

“What have you been doing, miss Maia? I’ve looked for you all morning.”

Something began to click into place for Louis as he watched the girl, Maia, gesture something back to Harry. Harry came to sit next to her on the lounge chair so the two were facing each other. His hands moved gracefully as he told Maia something, and again spoke to Louis.

“I’m asking her for permission to tell you what she’s signing.”

Louis nodded at Harry, feeling intrigued.

“She says yes,” Harry added, smiling up at Louis. “And hello.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled at Maia. “Can you tell her hello for me, Harry?”

“Would you like to tell her?” Harry asked with a hesitant smile.

“I...sure,” Louis replied. “How?”

Harry lifted a hand and demonstrated to Louis what appeared to be a kind of salute. He tapped Maia on her hand, and she turned to face Louis. Louis felt a bit self-conscious, but lifted his hand to mimic Harry’s greeting. He smiled hopefully at Maia. She appeared to be biting back another giggle in response. Then Maia lifted a slender hand and performed the hello sign in slow motion for Louis. Louis was no quitter, so he attempted the sign again, this time slower. He looked at Harry and Maia with a timid smile.

Harry exchanged a contemplative look with Maia, and then they both turned to Louis with bright smiles. In unison, they lifted their hands to perform a sign that Louis inferred meant ‘yay’ or ‘good job,” judging by the way they were smiling.

“Was that ok?” Louis asked Harry.

“Yes,” Harry replied. “That was the ASL sign for applause.”

Louis beamed at Harry. Then Harry focused back on Maia. She signed to Harry, and Harry spoke her words aloud.

“She wants to know what your name is, and your favorite thing to eat.”

“Um,” Louis said thoughtfully, “you’re going to have to help me with this one.”

As Louis spoke, Harry signed back to Maia what Louis had said. Harry looked up at Louis and nodded.

“So, my name is Louis, and for my favorite food, I’m going to say...is probably chocolate cake,” Louis said. He watched in fascination as Harry relayed Louis’ answer to Maia. “What’s her favorite food?” Louis asked Harry.

Harry didn’t need to ask apparently. “Well,” he said, continuing to sign, “Miss Maia enjoys teriyaki chicken, the chef’s house salad with extra croutons, and also, I believe, chocolate cake. Right?” he asked Maia, and Maia nodded with a bright smile.

“Also,” Harry added, “she likes hiding in unusual places, snooping around the resort guests, and stealing sunglasses.” At that, Harry gingerly removed the too-big sunglasses from Maia’s face and placed them on his own. Harry shared a chuckle with Louis, then turned back to Maia as she began to sign again.

“Hmm, ok,” Harry said, nodding to what Maia said, “she says you’re pretty, but not a very good artist. Something about stick figures?” Harry asked Louis.

Louis just shrugged good-naturedly. “This is why I write, and not draw.”

As Harry told Maia Louis’ response, Louis’ phone beeped a notification. Zayn had texted him.

_Where r u mate? U lost?_

Louis laughed and typed back, _No, I just got to talking with someone._

 _Omfg,_ Zayn fired right back, _ur talking to Harry aren’t you?_

Louis blushed, but stubbornly replied, _I’m making new friends. Are you still on the beach?_

Zayn didn’t answer right away, so Louis pocketed his phone and turned back to the signed conversation going on between Harry and Maia. Harry explained the gist of what they were saying.

“Basically, Maia wants ice cream for a treat, and I’m trying to convince her I’ll make fruit salad instead.”

“Ah,” Louis nodded, knowing the feeling from feeding his own finicky siblings, “and what do you say to that, Maia?”

Maia levelled first Harry, then Louis with an unimpressed stare and shook her head no.

Louis raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, then suggested, “Why not compromise, you know? Can you make her a banana split, Harry?”

Harry perked up a bit at that idea, then signed it to Maia. In turn, Maia’s eyes grew wide with excitement and she replied to Harry with enthusiasm.

“And that’s a yes,” Harry told Louis. “Not a bad idea. Thanks, Louis.”

Louis nodded back. “Anytime.”

Maia jumped up from the lounge chair, wiggled her fingers at Louis in farewell, and grabbed her phone. Then she sprinted off towards what Louis presumed was a kitchen. Left alone with Harry, Louis again found himself feeling self-conscious. He caught himself fidgeting and quickly stopped, but imagined Harry still saw it. Harry, for his part, slid off his sunglasses and meticulously polished them on the hem of his polo. Somehow, it was reassuring to Louis to find Harry was also nervous. Louis smiled and broke the silence.

“So Maia is cool.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes and beamed. “She really is.”

“How long has she been staying here?” Louis asked.

“About...four years,” Harry mused. In response to Louis’ look of surprise, Harry added, “She lives here with her parents year-round.”

“Wow,” Louis replied, impressed.

“Maia’s mother, Raeni, manages the spa, and her father, Tony, is the chef here.”

“Awesome,” Louis said. “So they’ve lived here four years then?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“And you?” Louis asked curiously. “Have you been here long?”

“I had actually been here six months when Maia’s family arrived. They’d been living in New York while Raeni finished her business degree.”

“Nice,” Louis said.

Harry stood and gestured towards the direction Maia had scampered off in. “She’s probably already in the kitchen wreaking havoc with the staff,” Harry joked.

“Ah,” Louis nodded slowly. “Kids have a talent for that.”

Louis stood up then, pocketing his phone. He grabbed his notebook and prepared to say his goodbyes to Harry.

“Would you like to join us for banana splits?” Harry asked politely.

“I’d love to, Harry,” Louis said, “but I’m meeting up with Zayn--if he ever texts me back--to talk about our writing projects.”

“No worries,” Harry said as he placed his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Rain check?” Louis asked, surprised at how hopeful he was for Harry to agree.

“Sure!” Harry replied. “Anytime. So I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “I’ll be around. See you later, ok?”

Harry nodded and gestured for Louis to go first as they walked around the edge of the pool and headed out to the walkway. Louis turned right, and Harry headed left. Louis waved at Harry in farewell, and then went in search of Zayn.

Louis opened his family group text and sent a new message while he walked around searching for Zayn.

_Miss you all! How are things going? Xx_

Waiting for a reply (or three), Louis wandered back to the beach bar to see if Niall was working. His eyes scanned the beach, and Louis located Zayn on his lounge chair chatting to Marcus the butler. Louis turned back to the bar and was disappointed to find that Greg was working instead. Louis hesitated for a moment, debating whether to ask Greg for a water, or to join Zayn at the beach. Apparently Louis hesitated long enough for Greg to spot him and wave eagerly. Louis waved back with less enthusiasm, and then he approached the bar.

“Mr. Tomlinson!” Greg greeted. “How are you this morning?”

“Please, call me Louis,” Louis replied. “I’m doing well. How are you?”

Greg beamed in surprise at the question. “Very well, thank you!” he said. “What can I get you today?”

Louis opted for an ice water, and while Greg filled a glass for him, Louis glanced back at Zayn. Zayn was walking towards the bar, suggesting that Marcus had to tend to other guests. Louis’ phone dinged, and he opened the group chat.

_Lottie: Miss you too! We’re making spaghetti tonight._

_Louis: Mum’s secret recipe?_

_Lottie: Of course, it’s the best._

_Phoebes: Lottie won’t let me play my music, Lou._

_Louis: What music, love?_

_Phoebes: It’s just post-hardcore experimental rock!_

_Lottie: It’s screamo, Lou. She’s been playing it for days and my ears are bleeding._

_Phoebes: Excuse you, La Dispute is an iconic band._

_Dazey: Yeah, Lou, Lottie just wants to listen to 90s pop._

_Louis: As she should._

_Lottie: HAHAHAHAHA yes!_

Louis was about to ask which bands Lottie was listening to when Zayn joined him at the bar.

“How’d it go?” Zayn asked.

Louis shrugged and said, “Not too bad. You?”

“Same,” Zayn replied.

“Can I get you something, Mr. Malik?” Greg asked politely.

Zayn glanced at the water Louis was sipping, and he ordered one as well. Then he added, “Call me Zayn, mate.”

Greg’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the gesture. “Sure, ok. Thanks!”

Zayn collected his water, and then he and Louis wandered to a table a good distance from other guests. They opened their respective notebooks to complete the walk and reflect exercise, and were soon immersed in reading each other’s writing. As always, Louis was floored by the simplicity of Zayn’s poetry; somehow, Zayn made stark imagery and haunting language appear easy to write. But Louis knew that Zayn approached each line with intentionality and focus. Meanwhile, Zayn always said that Louis’ prose was vivid and attention-grabbing. He had read Louis’ debut novel, _Home,_ in its early stages and congratulated Louis on his skilled storytelling and characterization. Louis was still coming to terms with the praise.

Louis knew deep down that he was his own worst critic. It seemed no matter how many congratulations he received from family, friends, and fans of his writing, Louis still doubted his potential for success. It wasn’t until he was holding an advance copy of _Home_ that Louis finally believed he was a published author and not some kind of imposter on the writing scene. Louis never quite felt _writerly_ enough compared to the greats. He didn’t wake each morning before dawn to journal, or read many books on craft, or promote his work on Twitter or other outlets. Louis mostly preferred to keep to himself--in both his writing and personal lives--and coupled with the family tragedy he was still navigating, that had taken a toll on him lately.

Zayn had overcome his own imposter syndrome, as he called it, by mentoring young aspiring poets in community writing workshops. It gave him the perspective that he had come a long way since he penned his first poems at age six, and he still had even more milestones to reach. Zayn wanted to become known to the new generation not for his looks or fame, but because of his ability to express the facets of the human experience to all audiences. Zayn’s ultimate goal, he had once confessed over beer and pizza with Louis, was to become the Poet Laureate of the UK. Louis suspected that one day he would achieve that.

Today, however, neither Louis nor Zayn felt especially award-winning. While Louis had gotten swept up in a fictional romance story, Zayn had focused his energy on writing about the resort surroundings. Zayn finished reading Louis’ writing exercise, then looked up in curiosity. Before he could comment, Louis beat him to it.

“You can say it,” Louis said, slumping back in his chair. “It’s predictable and trite.”

Zayn stared off into the distance, considering Louis’ words. Finally, he replied. “I was going to say ‘conventional,’ but that works too, I guess.”

Louis chuckled drily. “I keep gravitating towards romance. It seems that my writing life is spicing up. Unlike my personal life.”

“It’s not bad, Lou,” Zayn said, tapping his pencil on Louis’ open notebook. “If you’re still targeting a YA audience, then it could be really successful. What’s the takeaway from this story for readers?”

“Well,” Louis said, taking a deep breath, “mostly it’s about acceptance. I want the main character and the love interest to be gay characters.”

Zayn nodded thoughtfully, and then he mulled it over for a moment. “Ok, I see where you’re going.”

“Is anyone going to read it, Z?” Louis fretted.

“Oh yeah, people will read it,” Zayn assured him. “You know what the real challenge will be, right?”

Louis sighed, having heard Zayn tell him this several times before. “Yes. To make the story accessible to all readers, and all walks of life.”

Zayn nodded with a small smile. “You’ve got it.”

“Ok, and then for yours,” Louis said, staring down at Zayn’s reaction to the resort around them, “I say the sensory details are solid. Somehow you make the descriptions concrete enough for all readers to identify with some piece of it. Well done.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Zayn said.

“I especially liked the line about drinking in the sunset,” Louis added.

“Yeah? Not too overdone?” Zayn asked.

“I don’t think so. The whole thing is really thoughtful, Z.”

“Thanks,” Zayn murmured, passing Louis’ notebook across the table. Louis did the same with Zayn’s.

“So...are we calling this one a success?” Louis asked.

“I think so,” Zayn said with a slow nod. “Maybe this will get us in gear to write our actual projects now.”

“And if not,” Louis added, “we’ve only wasted an hour.” It was Louis and Zayn’s go-to saying for completing writing activities.

“Exactly. Now, lunch?” Zayn proposed. “And then you can tell me about your run-in with Harry.”

Louis rolled his eyes, but he finally agreed. While he browsed a few travel sites to find a nearby restaurant, Zayn pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He handed a cigarette to Louis, then took one for himself. Louis was surprised to find several restaurants and bars near the resort requiring minimal walking or driving.

“It says here that this one has a lot of excellent reviews,” Louis said, focusing in on a restaurant called Barnacles. “It’s a half mile from the resort.” Louis blew out a stream of smoke from his cigarette and handed his phone to Zayn.

“Looks good to me,” Zayn replied, scrolling through the traveler reviews for the restaurant. “Want to just walk there?”

“Sure,” Louis said.

Louis and Zayn made a quick trip back to their rooms to put away their notebooks, then headed towards the welcome pavilion. As they approached the elegant building, Louis and Zayn spotted a familiar face. Henri was standing in the shade near the entrance, scrolling through something on his phone. Louis imagined he was waiting for the next guests to arrive.

As they came closer, Louis and Zayn waved at Henri to get his attention. Henri must have seen the movement in his peripheral vision, because he glanced up from his phone.

“Ah!” Henri called with a smile as he pocketed his phone. “If it isn’t Tom and Jerry.”

Louis grinned at the nicknames and extended a hand in greeting. “How are you, Henri?”

Henri shook Louis’ hand, then Zayn’s. “Very well, gentlemen. And yourselves?”

“Just been relaxing and doing some work,” Zayn replied with a small shrug.

“I see,” Henri said. “And now you will need a break, right?”

“Exactly right,” Louis said. “We’re thinking about going exploring, then getting some lunch. Maybe a place called Barnacles?”

Henri nodded. “Nice place. That’s near Pigeon Island National Park.”

“Can we walk there?” Zayn asked.

“Yes, sure,” Henri said. “You can make a day trip out of it--there’s Fort Rodney, some great views of the island, and I think snorkeling.”

Louis and Zayn exchanged curious glances. “Sounds promising,” Louis mused. “Could we just take a taxi to the restaurant and walk back?”

“I believe so. Would you like a map, just in case?” Henri proposed.

“Better take one, yeah,” Zayn conceded. “We’ve been known to get lost before.”

Henri nodded and walked briskly into the welcome pavilion. He returned a moment later holding a map of St. Lucia and handed it to Louis.

“Everything you need should be right here,” Henri said. “Let me call you a taxi.”

While Henri procured their taxi, Zayn turned to Louis. “We can find our way back, right?”

“Um, sure,” Louis said. “And if we get turned around, we have a map. We’ll be fine.”

Zayn shot Louis a dubious look but remained silent. Luckily, Henri reemerged right on time.

“Taxi will be here in five minutes to take you to lunch. Can I help you guys with anything else?”

“This is great, Henri,” Zayn replied. “I think we’re all set.”

Henri smiled brightly and nodded. “Enjoy your lunch! If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Louis and Zayn said goodbye to Henri, who waved and set off down the pathway towards a couple carrying their luggage toward the welcome pavilion to presumably check out. Left alone, Louis and Zayn passed the time by checking their messages and social media on their phones. Louis opened his family group chat and wished his siblings a good night, followed by a string of heart emojis.

Soon enough, a taxi rolled down the long drive towards Louis and Zayn. Once they were safely buckled in inside the car, the driver confirmed their lunch destination and turned the radio up, where tourist-friendly hits were playing. Louis leaned back against his seat, eager to glimpse the sights beyond the resort.

After a short drive, the taxi stopped in front of a large French colonial structure. Louis and Zayn paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi to have a closer look. Barnacles, as the large sign identified it, was a two-floor building. The ground floor featured three arches and an exterior of weathered stone; above it, the first floor contained five taller arches. It was painted pink. In front of the restaurant, colorful green and yellow picnic tables were arranged in the grass. Louis knew Zayn had a more artistic eye and could easily estimate when the structure was built. Meanwhile, Louis just tried to appreciate the color scheme.

Zayn and Louis walked inside the restaurant and were first greeted by the sight of a bar. Charming, mismatched bar stools lined the bar, which was worn but carefully polished. Behind the bar, three long shelves were illuminated by neon blue lights that cast eye-catching shadows on the various spirits arranged there. Louis and Zayn stood in front of the bar, and soon a server in a white dress and a black apron approached them with a smile.

“Welcome to Barnacles,” the young woman said. “Can I get you guys a table?”

“Yes, please,” Louis replied, and their waitress picked up two menus from the bar.

“Water view today, gentlemen?” she asked.

Louis and Zayn nodded in agreement, and then followed the waitress to a picnic table overlooking what Louis guessed was the Atlantic. Their table was painted a vibrant yellow, which was an interesting contrast to the stone that lined the exterior walls. The waitress placed two menus on the table. When she asked for Louis and Zayn’s drink orders, Zayn asked what she recommended.

“Well,” she said, “I think the local Piton beer is good myself. Our bartender Jim also makes a delicious signature daiquiri.”

Louis suggested they start with the beer, and then maybe later consider the daiquiris. Their waitress nodded and wove between the tables back inside towards the bar. Looking around, Louis noticed there were a few couples and one man eating alone across the way. Their view of the ocean made Louis wish he had brought his notebook to jot down all the details he saw.

Zayn had already opened his menu, so Louis followed suit. He was surprised to see more than just typical bar fare; the menu listed foods from curries to seafood to cajun-inspired rice.

“What are you getting?” Louis asked.

“I’m feeling adventurous,” Zayn said. “I might go for the lobster.”

“Nice,” Louis replied. “Was leaning towards creole shrimp myself.”

The waitress returned to their table carrying a tray with two beers on it. She set each one down on the table, then asked if they were ready to order. Since Louis and Zayn had both decided, they told her their choices. She nodded as if they’d made a good decision, then walked back inside to place their orders. Zayn propped his elbow on the table and rested his hand on his palm, and then fixed Louis with a curious smile.

“So,” Zayn said.

“So?” Louis asked with a slight frown.

“ _So_ , you and Harry,” Zayn replied, blinking slowly in the warm sunlight.

Louis slouched his shoulders and hung his head. “I’m telling you, Z, we’re just friends. Actually, not even that. I’m still doubting he wants to be my friend at all.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Zayn asked as he took a sip of the Piton beer.

Louis shrugged, averting his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know. When I saw him today, he was chatting with a friend and having fun, but when he talked to me, it felt kind of awkward.”

“How do you mean?”

“I get nervous around him and never know how to relax,” Louis answered.

“You like him, then?” Zayn asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” Louis admitted while picking at a spot on his jean shorts. “I mean, I like him as a person, of course. But anything beyond that, I just don’t know.”

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Well, we can at least watch his Captain America DVD tonight if you want.”

“Sounds good. I plan on taking notes on all the reasons Iron Man is still the best.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Of course you will. Then you should show Harry your findings. I have a feeling he’s kind of a nerd, too.”

“As his almost friend,” Louis concluded, “I feel compelled to explain to Harry why my point is valid. And considering he was the one who started the Avengers conversation in the first place, I’m thinking he’s a nerd as well.”

A few minutes later, their waitress returned with lunch. She set the large plates down in front of Louis and Zayn, who assured her everything looked great. As she walked back inside the restaurant, Zayn took a tentative bite of lobster.

“Well?” Louis asked expectantly. “How is it?”

Zayn chewed slowly for a few moments. When he glanced up at Louis, he was smiling. “Damn. This is delicious, Lou.”

Louis speared a piece of shrimp with his fork and chewed it up slowly to savor the taste. “Oh wow,” Louis said, “the spice takes a second to kick in, and then it’s like, _bam_. Super spicy.”

For the next few minutes, Louis and Zayn enjoyed their meals. It was refreshing to eat at a natural pace, without worrying about the time ticking away like Louis did at home. Louis also found that the Piton beer went well with the creole shrimp. A warm breeze was sifting through the leaves on a few large palm trees, and the sun was bright overhead. St. Lucia was really growing on Louis.

After lunch, Zayn and Louis paid their bills. Then they wandered to the edge of the restaurant property to stand closer to the ocean. As waves rushed towards the rocky shoreline, Louis elbowed Zayn in the arm.

“Ok, this was a great idea. All of it,” Louis said. “Thank you.”

Zayn kept staring out across the water, but he elbowed Louis back. “Thank you for coming with me.”

They lingered by the water for a few minutes, and then Zayn pulled out his map. He spread it open on a nearby picnic table, and Louis leaned in next to him to help plan their return route. Zayn traced a finger from Barnacles on Pigeon Island down to the Landings resort, following a long stretch of road.

“I’m guessing a fifteen to twenty-minute walk back to the resort,” Zayn explained. “Sound ok?”

“Yeah,” Louis replied. “I’m ready if you are.”

Together, Louis and Zayn walked towards the road, watching carefully for passing cars, and traced their way back to the Landings. Louis was curious how Harry’s banana splits had turned out, but he decided to keep the question to himself for now.

After their walk back to the resort, Louis found himself sweating. He could feel the beginnings of a fresh sunburn on his shoulders and the back of his neck as well. So Louis and Zayn parted at their individual villas with the intention of staying out of the sun during the hottest part of the day. They agreed to check in with each other in a couple hours.

Alone in his villa, Louis walked from room to room enjoying the air conditioning and quiet. From the bedroom which featured a king-sized bed, to a spotless gourmet kitchen, to the dining room, Louis found the villa to be a far cry from his mother’s house growing up. Even Louis’ flat in London, which he had renovated and redecorated to suit his style, seemed quaint compared to this. That wasn’t to say that this villa was devoid of warmth and comfort; on the contrary, Louis could tell that a lot of care and time had gone into making it welcoming. Louis supposed the intended message was, “Make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable--this is only temporary.”

Louis traced his steps back to the en-suite master bath to take another shower. When he took off his grey tank, Louis could see in the mirror clear lines where sunburn was forming. Briefly, he wondered if he could buy some aloe at the resort to soothe his burned skin. Louis shrugged, finished undressing, and stepped into the spacious tiled shower. He adjusted the water temperature to only nearly scalding this time, then stepped under the rain shower head. Steam filled the shower, and Louis planned to take as much time as he liked.

Louis chose not to look at the clock when he stepped out of the shower and dressed only in his joggers. Instead, he grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen and then sat down in the dining room in front of his laptop. Louis had every intention of typing up what he had written so far at the resort, no matter how random or off-the-wall. He opened his notebook to the pages he had written by the pool earlier and reread his Fiction-Niall story, chuckling a little. Louis knew the plot needed more structure, conflict, and detail, but the bones of a story were there.

Louis spent about an hour typing up his story notes and sketching out a possible idea for conflict and resolution. He was leaning towards at least one of the character’s families disapproving of the match between Fiction-Niall, who Louis had renamed Miles, and the pianist. Louis had done extensive world building for _Home,_ but now he was gravitating towards a real-world setting in present day. Los Angeles kept popping up in his mind for some reason.

With a start, Louis realized that a YouTube search for a 90s playlist had somehow led to Facebook. He hadn’t checked his news feed in so long, he suspected all his Facebook friends had forgotten him entirely. Louis scrolled through his friend requests, accepting a few people that he recognized. One minute he was posting belated birthday wishes on Zayn’s timeline, and the next, his cursor was hovering over the search button. Louis was flooded with guilt for typing in Harry’s name, for some reason. It felt like going behind his back. Louis shook off that thought and clicked search. There were several Harry Styles listed in the results, but only one featured a profile picture of a child with a familiar head of curls looking through the viewfinder of a camera. Louis smiled at the sight of Maia. He glanced around the quiet villa just in case anyone was watching Louis cyber-stalk Harry, and then clicked on his profile.

Harry’s profile appeared to be public. Behind the picture of Maia, Harry’s cover photo depicted a beach at night with stars glinting overhead. Harry’s bio was a quote by Cher that read: “Until you’re ready to look foolish, you’ll never have the possibility of being great.” Louis scrolled down to find that Harry had almost 2,000 friends on Facebook. After friends were tagged photos, and Louis eagerly scanned the handful visible; he rationalized his stalking by showing some restraint in not clicking through all of Harry’s photos. One photo depicted Harry in front of a palm tree at the resort decorated for Christmas, complete with twinkle lights and ornaments. Another was a selfie with a woman Louis assumed was Harry’s mother and a younger woman he imagined to be a sister on either side of Harry; they were all sticking out their tongues in the photo. Louis suppressed the urge to look at every photo on Harry’s profile. He felt guilty enough already.

Louis navigated away from Facebook then and returned to his story notes with a sigh. He had almost reached his threshold for staring at his writing on a screen, and needed a break. Louis could come back to the story later with fresh eyes. In the meantime, Louis ambled to a clean, furnished living room and sprawled out across the couch. He set an alarm on his phone, planning to get back to work in half an hour. Then Louis leaned back against a fluffy, cream pillow and closed his eyes.

_“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” a voice murmured some time later._

_Louis blinked awake and stared up into vibrant, green eyes in a handsome face. He was surprised to find Harry next to him on the couch in his villa, but Louis was willing to go with it. Louis took stock of himself post-nap and realized he was curled up on his side facing Harry. Slowly, Louis rolled onto his back and gazed up at Harry. He saw that Harry was smiling softly at him, sitting close enough that Louis could feel Harry’s body heat beside him. Louis lifted a hand and tentatively tucked one of Harry’s curls behind his ear, amazed to find he wasn’t hallucinating Harry’s presence. The curl was soft beneath Louis’ fingers. Louis traced his fingers down the side of Harry’s face, and Harry’s smile grew._

_“Did you think you were dreaming?” Harry quipped._

_“I...maybe, yes,” Louis admitted, blushing under Harry’s steady gaze. “What are you doing here?”_

_Harry combed gentle fingers through Louis’ fringe. “It’s a surprise.”_

_Louis raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I like surprises?” he challenged._

_Harry shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “Just a guess.”_

_“So,” Louis replied as he sat up on the couch, “what’s the big surprise?”_

_“Come and see.”_

_Harry stood up and offered a hand to Louis. Louis took his hand and followed Harry through the villa to the glass doors that opened onto a patio facing the beach. Harry slid the door open and stepped out into the fresh air. Louis looked around the patio to find a surprising addition--where there had once been a slate floor, there was now a small, round pool._

_Louis opened his mouth to ask Harry what was going on, but was silenced by the sight of Harry removing his work polo. He stood facing Louis displaying an expanse of skin that Louis very much wanted to touch, smirking like he could read Louis’ mind._

_“You ok, Lou?” Harry teased while popping the button on his khakis._

_“I, um. Yeah,” Louis nodded slowly. His mouth felt dry._

_“Good,” Harry replied, dropping his khakis to the ground and revealing a pair of tight, black pants. “Now strip.”_

_Louis’ jaw dropped, and his arms felt frozen at his sides. “W-what?”_

_Harry had the audacity to wink. “I said, strip please. We’re going swimming.”_

_When Louis hesitated, Harry closed the distance between them and reached for the drawstring on Louis’ joggers. Harry’s fingers brushed the sensitive skin on Louis’ belly as he slowly untied the strings._

_“I’m not wearing any pants,” Louis blurted out louder than was necessary. He blushed instantly, expecting Harry to laugh at Louis’ awkwardness. Instead, Harry’s fingers stilled on Louis’ joggers. He smiled patiently at Louis._

_“Well then,” Harry mused. Louis watched in fascination as Harry slipped off his pants, leaving him naked out on the patio. “Your turn.”_

_Louis blinked in shock. He knew it was absurd to strip down on his patio, but he felt a surge of bravery and stepped out of his joggers. The warm breeze was pleasantly liberating as it caressed Louis’ body. Harry glanced between his body and Louis’ and then took Louis’ hand. He led Louis to the edge of the pool. They took turns stepping down into the cool water. Harry bent at the knees and ducked down below the water. When he surfaced, water streamed down the strong planes of Harry’s chest. Louis felt a little faint as he watched Harry slick his hair back with his hands. Harry blinked his eyes open, and Louis watched in fascination as droplets of water clung to his lashes._

_Harry smiled and reached for Louis’ hand, tugging him closer in the pool. “See, I was thinking earlier,” Harry explained, “how nice it would be to go for a swim with you.”_

_“Well, you’ve got me,” Louis replied. Inside his chest, Louis’ heart was pounding in anticipation at an alarming rate._

_“Mhm,” Harry hummed. “And now what should I do with you?”_

_“I mean,” Louis replied, “you could kiss me,” he said, sounding bolder than he felt._

_“I could,” Harry said. He wrapped his hands around Louis’ waist in the water. “Close your eyes,” Harry whispered, leaning closer._

_Louis mirrored Harry, slowly leaning in close. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Harry was so close that Louis could feel his breath on his face. Harry curved one hand around Louis’ jaw, pulling him even closer. Just as Louis felt the brush of Harry’s lips on his own, music blared nearby. The sudden shriek of voices jolted Harry back several inches. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, wishing desperately for the noise to stop so Harry would kiss him. Instead, the music amplified and Louis felt himself floating on his back in the pool._

_“Louis,” Harry called, and suddenly he sounded so far away._

_Louis opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out._

_“Louis?” Harry said faintly._

_Louis was sinking deeper into the water, and his limbs seemed immobile. He felt panic well up in his chest at the thought of drowning._

_“Louis!” the same voice echoed._

_Louis was fully underwater now. His vision blacked out for a moment, and then Louis’ limbs snapped into motion. He pushed upwards, arms flailing, and finally emerged above the surface. Louis gasped and looked around, confused._

Louis was no longer in the pool.

As Louis sucked in deep breaths, trying to breathe normally, he realized he was sitting alone on the harmless-looking beige couch in his villa. His phone alarm was blaring on the coffee table. Louis was both relieved he hadn’t drowned and sorely disappointed that Harry hadn’t ever been with him. Louis flopped back against the pillow for a moment. Then he turned off his phone alarm, his mind swirling with thoughts of his very graphic dream. Leave it to Louis to conjure up a beautiful dream man and then abruptly wake right before he kissed him. Even in Louis’ dreams, he wasn’t getting any action.

Louis groaned and sat back up on the couch. He had the beginnings of a headache, and he was thirsty. Louis stood and walked into the kitchen for his glass of water, suppressing all thoughts of Harry. He realized one thing was explicitly clear as he shook off the dream: no one could ever know about this. Louis was taking it to the grave.

Louis had polished off a large glass of water and was heading to the patio for a well-deserved smoke when the doorbell rang. Louis hadn’t been aware he had a doorbell. He dropped the pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter and then walked towards the front door. Louis shook his head fondly, imagining Zayn standing at his door ready to choose their next adventure. The doorbell rang again, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Ok,” Louis said as he pulled the door open. “What’s so urgent you ran to my door, Z--”

Louis closed his mouth abruptly at the sight of someone decidedly not Zayn standing on his doorstep.

“Hi, Louis,” Harry said with an amused smile.

“You’re dressed!” Louis replied in shock, recalling his vivid dream, then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

Harry’s smile faltered a little, and he glanced down at his crisp white polo and green shorts. “I, um,” Harry answered with a puzzled expression, “yes, I am. You, on the other hand...”

Louis followed Harry’s gaze and looked down only to realize he was still dressed in just his ratty grey joggers. “Shit!” Louis said, then promptly shut the door. He ran to his suitcase and donned a vest at random, then rushed back to the door. Harry was still standing there, biting back a smile.

“Oh god,” Louis said breathlessly. “Sorry. Forget that, please. So what’s up?”

Harry assessed Louis’ flushed face with curiosity, eyes sparkling with mirth, then shrugged. “Rachelle had a message for you, and I was already out. I just stopped by on my lap around the resort.”

Louis nodded his understanding. “Oh, ok. Is everything ok, though?”

Harry smiled reassuringly. “Oh, yeah; no worries. I’m just supposed to pass on a message that Byron and Jo Shields have requested you and Zayn join them for dinner tonight at the Palms. I knocked on Zayn’s door first, but no one answered.”

Louis chuckled. “That’s not surprising if he’s in the middle of writing.”

“Ah, right. Ok.”

“But yes, we would both love to meet the Shields for dinner. Did they mention a time?”

“Yes! I almost forgot,” Harry replied. “8 p.m.”

“Sounds great,” Louis assured Harry. “And this restaurant--what’s the dress code?”

“They say semi-formal,” Harry said. “But people wear whatever they want. And the food is wonderful, if I do say so myself.”

Louis grinned. “I can’t wait to try it, then. Thanks, Harry.”

Harry mirrored Louis’ smile. “No problem. I’ll let Rachelle know, and she’ll reserve you guys a table. See you later, Louis.”

“Great! Thank you. See you later then,” Louis said. He watched as Harry pulled out his phone and typed a message, presumably to Rachelle. When he had finished, Harry flashed Louis a bright smile and took off down the pathway at a leisurely pace. Louis shut the door with a soft click. Then he leaned back against the door, amazed at his lack of filter--and clothing. Louis banged his head back against the door a few times and prayed the embarrassment would pass soon. Otherwise, he’d never be able to look Harry in the eye again.

Louis shuffled further into the villa in search of his phone. When he found it still on the coffee table in the living room, Louis typed out a text to Zayn. Then he pocketed the phone, grabbed his cigarettes, and walked quickly towards the patio. While he waited for Zayn’s reply, Louis stood on his patio--with no pool in sight--and lit a cigarette. If the nicotine didn’t restore Louis’ shaky grasp on his sanity, he was willing to turn to one of Niall’s margaritas. Finally, Zayn replied.

To Louis’ message of _asdfgerfgij Zayn I fucked up! Shit damn FUCK. Also, we’re having dinner with the sweet older couple we met and I have nothing to wear,_ Zayn had replied with two laughing face emojis followed by an infuriatingly calm reply.

_Wear your black skinnies and that blue shirt, nerd. Come over._

Louis narrowed his eyes at the reply and scoffed, “Make me,” to no one in particular. Then he finished his cigarette deliberately slowly, refusing to think about the way Harry’s eyes had sparkled in amusement at his door. Louis could only handle so much in an afternoon.

Eventually, Louis found himself at Zayn’s door, hoping fervently that any evidence of his recent humiliation had faded. Zayn opened his door and just studied Louis for a moment. It reminded Louis of the way his mother looked at him with laser focus when Louis was clearly hiding something. Louis had never been able to withstand that stare for long until he caved and confessed everything to his mother. Now, standing in front of Zayn’s shrewd eyes, Louis knew it was just a matter of time before he blurted out everything.

“Damn,” Zayn said in greeting, then swung the door open for Louis to enter.

“Look, you’ve seen worse,” Louis retorted as he followed Zayn into his villa.

Zayn laughed. “Yes I have. C’mon, let’s sit at the table like real adults.”

Louis took a seat at Zayn’s table and accepted the can of Coke Zayn set in front of him with a murmured “thanks.”

Zayn grabbed a Coke for himself and then sat down across from Louis. He popped the tab on top and took a sip. Then he turned curious eyes to Louis and spoke.

“Ok, spill.”

Louis fidgeted with the tab on his can of Coke, pondering how to word a casual reply. He finally settled on, “Spill what?” with an innocent expression. “Why do you assume _I_ did something?”

Zayn gave Louis a flat look and shook his head. “Are you saying someone else did something?”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Um...no, not exactly. No.”

Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “Ok. So let me say it again: spill already.”

Louis sighed and shot Zayn a scowl. He took a sip of soda and grimaced at its synthetic sweetness. “Fine. Jesus. So I was just relaxing in my room, minding my own business…”

“Pause.”

Louis blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“I said pause,” Zayn said. “Now, rewind. What were you really doing?”

“Taking a nap,” Louis admitted. “I swear.”

“Mhm,” Zayn nodded. Louis could practically see the gears turning in Zayn’s head. “Continue.”

“Right, so I was taking a nap,” Louis said, “and then Harry knocked on the door. Well, I thought it was you, until I opened the door.”

“And?”

“And...we talked,” Louis replied, fighting the urge to admit everything. “And then he left.”

“Right,” Zayn said patiently. “So why did you text me in a panic then?”

“I...well,” Louis stammered, averting his eyes. “Um.”

“Louis.”

“Zayn.”

“You know you’ll feel better if you just say it. Besides, you look kind of constipated bottling it all up right now.”

Louis slouched in his chair and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then he mumbled a reply.

“IhadasexdreamaboutHarry.”

“What?” Zayn asked, leaning closer.

“ _IhadasexdreamaboutHarry_ ,” Louis repeated.

“Lou, I didn’t catch any of that.”

“I _said_ ,” Louis practically yelled now, “I had a sex dream about Harry!”

Zayn’s expression was priceless; his eyes popped open wider than Louis thought possible, and his jaw dropped. For a moment, all Zayn managed to do was blink.

“Oh,” Zayn said faintly. And then, _“Oh.”_ Louis watched with dread as Zayn’s shock morphed into a predatory grin.

“And then,” Louis continued, unable to stop now, “I opened the door shirtless and talked like a lunatic.”

Zayn’s smile grew impossibly wider. “Wow, Lou.”

Louis buried his face in his hands and groaned. “He probably thinks I’m insane now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn asked, struggling not to laugh.

“The dream?” Louis asked incredulously. “No. Jesus. Isn’t it bad enough it even happened?”

Zayn stared off into the distance, deep in thought. “Well, look at it this way. It can only get better from here.”

“Can’t get any worse,” Louis grumbled.

“Aww, Lou,” Zayn said. “So you guys got off to a rocky start, and then you embarrassed yourself in front of him. It’s gonna be ok.”

Louis gave Zayn a dubious look. “Right.”

“Give it a day or so, and things will go back to normal. Worst case scenario, you avoid him for the next week and a half.”

Louis shook his head wordlessly. It wasn’t much of a plan.

“Now,” Zayn concluded, “Chin up. Let’s go visit Niall and try one of his margaritas. Maybe strawberry this time.”

Louis sighed louder in resignation as he stood up from his chair, but Zayn didn’t appear to notice. Zayn just walked through the villa, slipped on his sandals, and headed for the door. Louis followed reluctantly, vowing to never tell Zayn about his Facebook stalking earlier. He reasoned that Zayn would only try to psychoanalyze him further; frankly, Louis would rather skip that conversation. 

“So tell me something,” Niall asked as he prepared margaritas a short time later. “Why is it you two always come around here looking like you’re up to something?”

Louis glanced at Zayn, who shrugged. Then Louis turned back to face Niall. “Us? Nah. We’re well-behaved writers mostly.”

Niall shot Louis a doubtful look, but didn’t comment. Meanwhile, Niall was shooting covert glances at Zayn every few seconds, and it seemed both sweet and totally involuntary.

“What have you heard, Niall?” Zayn asked.

“The usual shit, I’m guessing,” Niall replied. “Nosy folks asking for selfies and autographs and so on. A few guests said they’d heard rumors that one or both of you were on the island. Wanted to know if I’d seen you.”

“What’d you say?” Louis asked, leaning on the bar in interest.

Niall flashed Louis a mischievous grin. “Well, I’ve actually never heard of you--that wasn’t technically a lie. And then I just say I don’t keep up with celebrities. That’s mostly true. If you’re not football players, I’ve probably never heard a word about you. I have a great poker face, too.”

“Hey, thanks, Niall,” Zayn said. “It’s not necessarily a secret anymore that Louis and I are here, but thanks for helping us out.”

“Don’t mention it, guys,” Niall replied with a modest shrug. For a moment, Niall and Zayn just stared at each other with small smiles. Niall was the first to snap out of it. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” he asked.

“We have a date, actually,” Louis quipped. “Really looking forward to it.”

Niall raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, catching on. “Super nice people. We’re meeting them at the Palms.”

Niall’s smile faltered a little. “Alright, nice. So who are the lucky dates?”

“The Shields,” Louis said. “Byron and Jo.”

“Byron Shields,” Niall replied, deep in thought. “Gin and tonic guy. And for the lovely Jo, believe it or not, a Long Island Iced Tea.”

Louis and Zayn exchanged surprised glances. Louis had never considered what drinks an older couple like the Shields would prefer, but now that he thought about it, why not? Zayn must have been thinking along the same lines.

“Go big or go home, I guess,” Zayn said.

“Pro tip,” Niall cautioned. “One drink you don’t want to order at a crowded bar is the LIT. Guaranteed to piss off a busy bartender every time.”

Louis considered Niall’s words and nodded. “Makes sense. Better to stick with a simple order, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Niall replied. “Used to bartend in a pub near a university, always loud and crowded. Terrible tips. Every other student wanted a mojito or margarita. Damn mojitos. I’d have a line of thirsty students out the door and there I was, muddling some fuckin’ mint leaves. Shit.”

“Well, fuck mojitos then,” Zayn replied. Louis hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, the Palms is a great place. The chef, Tony, is a genius with scallops. You’ll have a good time,” Niall said in a calmer tone. “Now, drink up and relax for a few.”

Niall set two frozen strawberry margaritas on the bartop, and then walked to the other end of the bar where a new couple had just arrived. The woman tapped long, red nails on the polished wood and ordered a mojito, while her date chose a Bloody Mary. Louis and Zayn winced at Niall’s pained smile, then sipped their own drinks in peace.

Louis felt unusually excited to have dinner with the Shields. He loved spending time with people who had lived long, eventful lives. As he dressed in the nicest clothes he had brought--a royal blue shirt and his black skinnies with black dress shoes--Louis reflected back on spending time with his grandparents. His mother’s parents, Benjamin and Mae, had worked alongside Jay to raise Louis and his sisters. Their small home with its elaborate gardens was a second home for Louis growing up. He still remembered the vibrant hues of Mae’s lavender plants. Benjamin, meanwhile, had been a strong father figure to Louis. Some of Louis’ favorite moments growing up occurred in his grandparents’ kitchen listening to them tell stories about their younger days. Louis was so inspired hearing their tales that he planned to write a memoir. Jay dug out an ancient cassette player for Louis, and he spent one long afternoon recording Ben and Mae’s memories. Louis’ transcription of those stories was one of his most treasured possessions, and he stored it on a hard drive for safekeeping. Ben and Mae were some of Louis’ first supporters of his writing; they were honored that Louis would take the time to write their story one day. It was Louis’ dearest long-term project, and unfortunately one that his grandparents never saw completed. They had died six months apart when Louis was attending uni.

Briefly, Louis wondered why a couple like the Shields were celebrating their 50th anniversary so far away from their families and their home. It was a mystery that Louis hadn’t quite yet earned the privilege of hearing. But his writer’s curiosity only grew as their dinner together approached.

Louis took care buttoning his shirt and tucking it in as he meticulously dressed for dinner. He had discovered that paying attention to detail could distract from the social anxiety he faced. It had taken years of coping techniques from a therapist to bring Louis to that point; what was often mistaken for innate confidence was actually a deliberate effort to remain calm. When Louis had finished dressing, he checked the time on his phone. Half an hour remained until he and Zayn should head to the restaurant.

Louis passed most of the time on his patio listening to music. It was a Mariah kind of night: while the sun set over the water and a soft breeze blew, Louis clicked through some songs that induced nostalgia. “Dreamlover” followed “One Sweet Day,” and eventually Louis landed on “Fantasy” and cranked up the volume. He walked back through the villa swaying his hips and singing the familiar lyrics. Then Louis brushed his teeth, grabbed his key card, and went to meet Zayn. He only paused the music when he crossed the pathway to Zayn’s door and knocked.

Zayn answered the door and took in Louis’ content expression. “Boyz II Men?” he guessed.

“Tempting, but no,” Louis replied, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Mariah Carey.”

“Ah. Nice.”

“Looking good,” Louis said as he focused on Zayn’s attire. Zayn had chosen a black shirt cuffed at the sleeves and his artfully distressed black skinny jeans. The monochromatic effect enhanced the visual of Zayn’s colorful tattoos. Zayn’s wardrobe typically signaled he was an artist, but tonight’s look screamed “successful, _cool_ artist.” Louis was proud of him.

Louis and Zayn walked down the pathway towards the welcome pavilion where they planned to meet the Shields. It was a balmy, quiet evening at the Landings--perfect for strolling. Louis spotted Henri outside the pavilion and waved. Henri waved back and smiled, gesturing for Louis and Zayn to come closer.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Henri said. “I understand you have dinner reservations tonight. Shall I escort you to the restaurant?”

Louis nodded. “That would be great, Henri. Thank you.”

Without further ado, Henri led them through the welcome pavilion towards the Palms. He paused at the entrance and pointed inside towards the bar. “I believe our friends the Shields are waiting at the bar. Enjoy your meal!”

Louis and Zayn nodded their thanks, then stood together at the entrance. Warm light beamed throughout the restaurant, and soft piano music filtered out to meet them. And reclining against the bar, chatting with the bartender like old friends, stood Byron and Jo Shields. Anxiety spiked through Louis, and he turned subtly to Zayn.

“Do we look presentable?”

Zayn scanned their outfits, then nodded his approval. “I think so. You ready?”

Louis took a deep breath, then let it out. “Let’s do it.”

Together, Louis and Zayn walked into the Palms and headed for the bar. The movement caught Byron’s eyes first, and he turned his head towards Louis and Zayn. Byron smiled, then pressed a hand to Jo’s lower back and murmured in her ear. Jo looked up to follow Byron’s line of sight, and she smiled enthusiastically at Louis and Zayn. She gestured for them to come closer.

“Oh goodness,” Jo greeted with a smile that reminded Louis of the proud grandparent look he had grown up receiving. “How lovely to see you this evening!”

Zayn reached the couple first and politely extended a hand to Jo. “Thank you for inviting us,” he said.

Jo rolled her eyes at the formality and promptly gathered Zayn into a hug. “Give us a hug then, Mr. Charming. Louis, you’re next,” Jo added, peeking over Zayn’s shoulder to make eye contact with Louis.

After warm hugs from Jo and firm handshakes from Byron, Jo clapped her hands excitedly. “Alright, now let’s head to our table. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished!”

Byron chuckled fondly. “Lead the way, my dear.”

A hostess materialized beside the group, introduced herself as Natalie, and led them to a table towards the back of the restaurant. As they walked, Louis noted that guests occupied most of the tables, even at this hour. Natalie pulled out a chair for Jo, while Byron, Zayn and Louis sat down without ceremony. Natalie welcomed them to the Palms and explained that their waiter was on his way. Then she excused herself.

Louis took stock of their seating arrangement to find Byron and Jo sitting across from one another, while Louis and Zayn sat across from each other as well. Louis was sitting beside Byron. Byron passed Louis a drink menu and chatted with Jo for a moment.

No matter how many fancy restaurants Louis had visited in the past few years following his novel’s success, Louis still experienced sticker shock. A single glass of pinot noir here cost $12. He could afford that, and an entire bottle for that matter, but it was beside the point. Louis shot Zayn a doubtful look, and Zayn mirrored his expression. While the expense surpassed their thrifty habits, Louis knew this was a special occasion. He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head the first time Louis could afford to take her to a nice restaurant. When Louis balked at the prices in the menu, Jay had patted Louis’ hand and insisted, “You’ve got to live a little, Lou. Otherwise, why do you work so hard?”

Thinking of Jay brought a wistful smile to Louis’ face. Zayn didn’t comment in front of Byron and Jo, but he gently kicked Louis’ foot under the table. Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn, but he found himself smiling a bit more now. Just then, Jo cut in on Louis and Zayn’s nonverbal conversation.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Jo said, “the Californian Chardonnay is delightful. Buttery, somehow.”

Louis and Zayn nodded politely in agreement. “Sounds tasty. I’ll give it a try,” Louis replied.

When their waiter arrived, introducing himself as Robert, Byron checked that everyone was ok with the chardonnay. “How about we just go for the bottle, Robert?” he asked.

“Excellent, sir,” Robert answered. Then he left with a small bow.

Zayn began reading the menu, and Louis silenced his phone. While he loved his big family, Louis figured that now wasn’t the time to assemble the group text. Louis turned to his own menu instead. After a few moments, Byron leaned closer to Louis.

“Any starters catch your eye?” he asked Louis.

Louis nodded. “Yes! I think I’d like to try the Brie Bruschetta. Zayn?”

Zayn hummed for a moment, deep in thought. “I’m leaning towards Watermelon and Feta Salad,” he eventually replied. “Is there anything you guys suggest?”

“We’re fans of the calamari,” Jo said. “But I think we’ve tried them all at one time or another, haven’t we, dear?”

“I believe so,” Byron replied. “And they’re all quite good.”

Robert the waiter reappeared bearing a bucket of ice and their requested chardonnay. He produced a small wine glass and poured a sampling of the wine for Byron. Byron tasted the wine with a thoughtful expression, then handed the glass to Jo. Jo smiled at Byron and took a sip from the glass, then nodded.

“Delicious; thank you, Robert,” Jo said.

Robert busied himself with pouring a generous glass of wine for everyone at the table. When he had finished, Byron requested to put in their starter orders.

“We’d like to have one of each,” Byron said with a warm smile.

“Very good, sir,” Robert replied. He jotted something on a small spiral notebook, then left.

Louis and Zayn exchanged surprised glances, but didn’t comment. In the meantime, Jo leaned closer towards Zayn and Louis with a conspiratorial smile.

“Sorry if we went overboard, guys--it’s not every day we get to treat friends to dinner,” Jo said with a wink.

“Oh,” Louis said with wide eyes, “that’s very generous, Jo, but Zayn and I can’t…”

“Ah, sure you can,” Byron said patiently. “It’s a special occasion, you know.”

“Our anniversary!” Jo exclaimed with a bright smile.

Louis smiled fondly at Jo. “Well, in that case, we’re very happy to celebrate with you.”

“Thank you, dears!” Jo cheered. “We already did our celebrating back home in Manchester, and then packed our bags and came back to St. Lucia.”

“I was an only child, and Jo’s siblings have already passed away,” Byron explained. “Our parents died years ago. So have some of our good friends.”

“When you get to our age, people start dropping like flies,” Jo said, shaking her head solemnly. “Most of our social events these days are funerals.”

“I’m really sorry, Jo,” Zayn murmured. “That must be hard.”

Jo patted Zayn’s hand and nodded. “Thank you, darling,” she replied. “You’re very kind.”

Louis felt he had no business asking the question that had popped into his head, so in the silence that followed, he pretended to check something on his phone. He knew as well as anyone that even the most heartfelt questions could come across as nosy.

“So you enjoy traveling then?” Zayn asked to break the silence.

“Oh, yes,” Jo said. “We’re always on the go. Trips with friends, tour groups, and trips with just us two--we love an adventure. You know, we never had children, Byron and I, so it’s usually just the two of us,” she added, effectively answering Louis’ question.

“Jo and I first discovered St. Lucia about twenty years ago,” Byron continued. “We came for Jo’s birthday and fell in love with the island. Do you remember what happened that trip, dear?”

“How could I forget?” Jo replied. “You boys probably won’t believe this, but we ran into the very couple who stood up with us at our wedding! Yes; we were walking the beach one evening, and a charming couple about our age approached us and asked who we were. When they told us their names, Martha and Jack Wright, I cried on the spot! Can you imagine--thirty years later, running into those exact people?” Jo said with a misty smile.

“Sounds like fate,” Louis admitted with a small smile.

“That’s amazing,” Zayn said. “Do you keep in touch now?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Byron said with a small frown. “We had a lovely dinner together that night, and learned that our old friends were living in London. At the end of the night, I wrote down their names and address on a cocktail napkin, and then we parted ways. The next morning, I realized I had lost the napkin.”

“We turned the hotel room upside down searching for it,” Byron recalled. “We were staying at a different hotel, then. Never did find it.”

“God,” Louis mused, “I’m sorry. That’s really bad luck.”

“But to make a long story short,” Jo concluded, “We lost touch again. I don’t even know if they’re still living.”

Questions were swirling around Louis’ head now, imagining ways he could use social media or the internet to track the couple down. In this day and age, his sister Daisy could track them down in five minutes. But again, Louis realized, it wasn’t really his place. He did, however, make a mental note of the couple’s names.

Soon, Robert returned with an array of starters. They took up most of the table, so Byron suggested they pass each dish around for everyone to sample. Once everyone had selected their starters, Jo turned to Zayn and Louis.

“Sorry, where was I?” Jo asked with a wry smile. “I’m getting forgetful these days.”

Zayn thought for a moment, then replied, “We were talking about your anniversary, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Jo said. “I’ll tell you one more short story, and then I want to know all about you.”

Louis and Zayn agreed, and Jo began speaking.

“Byron and I married in 1969,” she said, winking at Byron across the table. “I was working as an usher at the performing arts center with some of my friends; Byron had just gone to work in his father’s factory to save up money for a house. Our families were scandalized when we chose not to hold the wedding at one of their churches. Instead, we married one Saturday afternoon at a friend’s farmhouse which had recently been restored.”

“And that’s where we met the Wrights,” Byron said.

“Yes!” Jo recalled. “They were engaged at the time and wanted to consider the farmhouse as a venue. Our mutual friend who owned the farm invited them to watch our wedding there. When the civil registrar asked for two witnesses, Martha and Jack agreed to help. Nicest people, truly. Martha styled my hair for the ceremony.”

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t afford a honeymoon,” Byron added. “We spent the weekend at a bed and breakfast, and then went back to work on Monday morning. But I promised Jo that one day, somehow, I’d bring her to a place like this. Twenty years later, I booked a trip to a little island called St. Lucia, and we fell in love with the place.”

Jo reached across the table to hold Byron’s hand. “You loved me when we had nothing,” she said.

“And I’ll love you forever,” Byron replied, giving Jo’s frail hand a gentle squeeze. “Besides, you’re stuck with me.”

All four of them chuckled at that thought, and then Jo turned to Louis with a fond smile. “If you ever write our story, dear, make sure I don’t always sound so sappy. Look at me, getting teary over a plate of hummus.”

“Deal,” Louis promised with a laugh.

“So what brings you boys to the island?” Byron asked. “Lads holiday?”

Louis and Zayn grinned, and Zayn shook his head. “Actually, I had to coerce Louis to come with me. He’s in the middle of a big project, and so am I.”

“Zayn’s actually accomplishing things here during our stay,” Louis replied. “Meanwhile, I’m writing nonsense.”

Jo perked up at Louis’ comment. “You’re writing a book, then?”

“Well, I’m trying to,” Louis said. “It’s a work in progress.”

“And Zayn, you’re working on writing as well?” Byron asked.

“Yes,” Zayn said. “Probably not as seriously as I could.”

“After we met you two, I knew you seemed familiar. You’ll never guess what I did,” Jo whispered with wide eyes. “I _googled_ your names--I only knew your first names at the time.”

Jo covered her eyes with a hand in embarrassment. “Byron showed me how to use it.”

“How’d you find us with just first names?” Louis asked with a curious smile.

“Well,” Jo admitted, “there were a few articles about the two of you. Nonsense, mostly,” she hurried to say. “But it was you in the pictures. I’m sorry, boys, for snooping.”

Zayn reassured Jo with a comforting hand on her back. “Jo, if you think that’s bad, I hope you never see the google searches Louis does for his books. And besides,” Zayn added when Louis interjected with a gasp, “the articles you read were probably true.”

“Ah, well, that’s true,” Louis said as he slumped back in his chair.

“So we don’t mind if you googled us,” Zayn concluded. “It’s ok.”

Jo quirked a small smile. “I have to admit, though, that you two look handsome in those tabloid photos.”

“Thanks,” Louis said, mirroring her smile. “My mother used to get a kick out of seeing me on those magazines in stores.”

“She sounds lovely,” Jo said. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you, Louis.”

Louis nodded thoughtfully. “She is. Was. Yeah.”

“Oh darling,” Jo murmured, “has she passed?”

Louis flashed Jo a grim smile. “She has. Going on three years ago.”

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Byron said. “Did she get to read your book?”

“Oh, yes,” Louis said, smile widening with nostalgia. “She read everything I wrote.”

“Jay was Louis’ biggest fan,” Zayn added, kicking Louis’ foot gently under the table.

“She still is, I’m sure,” Jo said with a soft smile.

In the brief silence that followed, Byron mercifully changed the subject. “So, what is everyone thinking for mains?”

Louis shot Byron a grateful smile and turned back to his menu.

After a dinner of savory salmon kebabs and more great conversation, Louis was growing sleepy. They agreed to rain check on dessert. Zayn and Louis politely asked if they could pay the bill, and Byron assured them that Robert knew to charge their dinners to their tab. So without further debate, Louis, Zayn, and the Shields bid the staff farewell and left the Palms. They exited the welcome pavilion, then turned to go their separate ways. Louis and Zayn assured Jo that they would meet up again during their stay. Louis watched as Byron took Jo’s hand and strolled away towards their villa.

“I need a smoke,” Zayn said as he followed Louis back to their own villas.

Louis opened his mouth to reply, and a huge yawn escaped instead. “Oops,” Louis finally said. “I was going to say, ‘I’m gonna watch the Avengers DVD and call it a night.’”

Zayn shot Louis a knowing smile. “Mhm. Enjoy your night, then. I’d say sweet dreams, but--”

“The nerve!” Louis hissed under his breath. “That dream was a freak occurrence.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Zayn replied. “But seriously, don’t text me before 10 a.m.”

“Sleeping in sounds perfect,” Louis said. “Good plan.”

At Zayn’s door, Louis bid Zayn goodnight and then headed for his own door. He kicked off his dress shoes at the door and threw his key card on a side table. Louis had the presence of mind still to fold his shirt and pants neatly, and then brush his teeth. Louis quickly took out his contacts and put on his black-framed glasses. Then he opened Harry’s DVD case to find the disc. Before Louis could pop the disc out, a scrap of paper fluttered to the ground.

Louis frowned and picked up the paper to find a note from Harry. Louis read Harry’s loopy cursive, his smile growing wider, and then carefully placed the note on his bedside table. As he powered on the TV and set the disc in the DVD player, then settled into bed, Louis gave himself permission to smile happily. While the opening credits of the film rolled across the TV screen, Louis glanced at the note once more.

_You’re captivating when you talk about things you love. Thought you should know. Xx Harry_


	5. Chapter 5

V.

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”

~Anais Nin

Louis spent most of the next morning drinking coffee and writing in his villa. It was tempting to wander over to Zayn’s to hang out or go in search of breakfast, but Louis resisted. He poured cup after cup of coffee and planned to give his new story one decent try--then he was moving on. If it didn’t work out, then he was back to square one.

Louis had been in tougher situations than this before.

Louis grew up envying writers who planned out orderly, detailed outlines and then followed them. While Louis was diligent with research and details, he was not an outliner. He couldn’t commit to that level of planning. So as he began laying the groundwork for Miles the struggling musician and his pianist to meet, Louis let some of the details develop as he wrote. It began like usual--Louis struggled through a few halting sentences, erased half of them, and finally started writing without a filter. In the course of the morning, Louis discovered that Miles was an optimist in spite of his lonely childhood. He had turned down a scholarship to his father’s alma mater, determined to succeed by his own merit, and moved to the city. Of course, Miles faced struggles. And finally, when he had a reliable job and a home and he was finally content, Miles discovered a pianist with mesmerizing eyes.

Louis stretched the tense muscles in his back where he sat writing at the dining table. His mind was swirling with ideas for details to set his story apart from others. Louis felt that well-developed character quirks made a good story great. While he was eager to start building his story world, Louis was mentally exhausted. He saved his story changes, then slowly stood and ambled through the villa.

Louis retrieved his phone from the charger on his bedside table, glancing at Harry’s note. He smiled at the sweet gesture and tried not to overthink it. Louis folded the note and carefully slipped it into the book he had brought to read. So he was occasionally sentimental. Who had to know?

After returning the DVD back into its case, Louis paused for a moment. He snagged a piece of the free Landings stationery and the matching pen, then jotted down a note. Louis folded it in half and placed it on top of the disc in Harry’s DVD case. He snapped the case shut without a further glance at his words inside and set it down. Then Louis dressed in shorts and a vest and texted Zayn to meet him outside since it was nearing lunchtime. He grabbed Harry’s DVD case and his key card, then walked out into the sunshine, his own penned words to Harry echoing in his head.

Following the message, _Tag! You’re it,_ Louis had written the digits of his phone number and a simple smiley face.

Zayn emerged from his dark villa blinking confusedly at the sunlight like someone with no concept of time or space. He turned to face Louis with a haunted expression.

“Jesus,” Zayn mumbled as he shook his head. “Fucking poems...metaphors...cigarette,” he said.

“Ok, Z,” Louis replied, opening his arms for a hug. “C’mere. There we go, good lad.”

Zayn allowed himself to be pulled into a warm hug and sighed deeply as Louis rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Alright, babe. You just dived in a bit too deep again. You’re ok now,” Louis said. “How about we get some lunch and relax for a while?”

“Ok,” Zayn murmured. “Yeah, I’m ok. Thank you.”

Louis pulled back and smiled encouragingly at Zayn. “C’mon, let’s walk it off. Slowly.”

Zayn pulled his door closed behind him, apparently still dazed. Louis kept a protective hand at Zayn’s back as they walked to the beach bar in relative silence. It happened every once in a while, Louis knew. Both Zayn and Louis occasionally lost track of reality exploring memories or ideas in their writing, and needed one another to gently shake them back into the present. Louis had learned to look at it this way: sometimes writing involved trekking through difficult memories and emotions, making it hard for a writer to snap out of it. Louis liked to think of the process as leaving breadcrumbs along the path, just like Goldilocks, to follow back home. When he proposed this idea to Zayn, Zayn had nodded thoughtfully and said, “It’s like going into the forest then? You don’t want to go so far in that you can’t find your way back.”

But as with many things in life, Zayn and Louis had discovered that knowing something and implementing it was a tricky distinction. Louis liked to think that as seasoned writers, he and Zayn had improved at following the breadcrumbs, so to speak.

Louis and Zayn approached the bar to find many other guests had the same idea for lunch. There was a vacant table still, so Louis parked Zayn in a chair facing the bay and wove his way towards the bar. He was relieved to find Niall there, filling a few drink orders.

“Hey, Louis!” Niall called with a bright smile. “Where ya been? How have you been?”

When Louis hesitated, Niall tilted his head in confusion. “Louis? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Louis rushed to reply. “All good. Zayn’s just feeling a little overworked today, and I was hoping to get him an orange juice.”

Niall’s smile dropped and his eyes widened in concern. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah, he will be, Niall.” At Niall’s worried expression, Louis added, “Really.”

“Ok, sure then. Go ahead and have a seat; I’ll bring it right out,” Niall said in a tone that discouraged further discussion. He glanced over Louis’ shoulder towards the table Zayn occupied, but didn’t comment further.

Louis traced his way back to their table and sat down beside Zayn. He was pleased to find that some color had returned to Zayn’s face, and Zayn seemed almost back to normal.

“Sorry, Lou,” Zayn said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far. I know better.”

“No worries, Z. You want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later, if that’s ok?” Zayn asked.

Louis smiled reassuringly. “Sure. You thirsty?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m kind of--”

“Here we are, guys,” Niall interrupted as he materialized out of nowhere bearing drinks. “Beer for Louis, just because, and an orange juice for Zayn.”

Zayn looked up in surprise at Niall, blinking slowly. “For me?”

“Yes, for you,” Niall said with a crooked smile. His tan face held the trace of a blush. “Drink up.”

Zayn’s expression morphed into a fond smile. “Thank you, Niall. This is great.”

“Anytime.”

Louis glanced between Zayn and Niall with a curious smile. He kept his comments to himself, though. After a moment, Niall snapped out of it and appeared to realize he had been standing there too long.

“Ok. You guys know where to find me if you need anything,” Niall said, turning to leave.

“Hey Niall?” Zayn asked.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” Zayn said once more, sipping his orange juice for emphasis.

The blush Niall had been fighting returned full force. “You’re welcome. See you later.”

Zayn nodded and smiled, then watched as Niall walked briskly back to the bar. When he turned back to face Louis, Zayn was still smiling contently.

“What?” he asked, leisurely sipping his juice.

Louis grinned and shrugged innocently. “Nothing. How’s the juice?”

Zayn narrowed his eyes for a moment in suspicion. “Good, I guess? Why are you staring like that?”

“Like what?”

Zayn pursed his lips in annoyance. “Like you know something I don’t, and prefer to gloat about it rather than tell your best friend.”

Louis shrugged wordlessly.

“Ugh, fine,” Zayn sighed, taking another sip of orange juice. “Never mind. Did you watch that DVD?”

Louis followed Zayn’s line of sight to the forgotten _Captain America_ DVD on the table. “Oh! Yeah, I did. I was gonna return it to Harry.”

“Uh huh,” Zayn said with a knowing smile. “Cool.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asked as he took a fortifying sip of his beer.

“What’s _what_ supposed to mean?” Zayn said, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Oh my god. Nothing is happening, ok?”

“Did I ask?” Zayn replied with a sweet smile. “But in that case, why don’t you just leave the DVD with Niall to give back to Harry?”

Louis thought about the note he had left inside the case for Harry and bit his lip. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

“Oh, I see,” Zayn murmured, leaning closer to Louis. “You wanted to give it back to him yourself.”

“So?” Louis asked, leaning a few inches away in irritation.

“So,” Zayn replied patiently, “remember when we used to leave things at each other’s house as kids on purpose, just so we had an excuse to go back and play some more? Like we’d leave a glove or a favorite toy that we just had to get back?”

“Ok, sure. What’s the point?”

“Louis,” Zayn hissed, “you and Harry are playing that game right now! Do you know what this means?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You like him, Lou. Like, _like_ him!”

“That’s it?” Louis said in disbelief. “That’s the basis of your argument?”

“Well,” Zayn smirked as he reclined back in his chair, “that, and the fact you had a very detailed dream--”

“Zayn, don’t you dare--”

“A detailed, vivid dream about him in which you--”

“Zayn, I swear to god. Don’t make me drown you in the bay,” Louis threatened.

“And _then_ ,” Zayn continued gleefully, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “you answered the door half naked and--”

“Alright, that’s it,” Louis huffed. He chugged the rest of his beer, placing the bottle on the table a bit harder than necessary, and was almost on his feet prepared to drag Zayn into the water for a death match when a voice piped up beside him.

“Um, Louis?”

Louis whipped around to find Niall standing behind him with a barely concealed grin.

“Niall?” Louis asked with a frown. “How long have you been standing there?”

Niall chuckled as his eyes darted between Louis and Zayn. “Long enough to know murderous intent when I see it.”

Louis groaned and covered his face with his hand. “Niall, I know you mean well, but Zayn deserves it.”

“Why? Because he was talking about your dreams about Harry?” Niall asked, grinning impossibly wide.

“Dream, Niall! Singular,” Louis insisted. “And why were you eavesdropping in the first place?”

“Mate, I could hear you guys from the bar,” Niall replied. “But don’t worry, Lou. I won’t tell anyone. Zayn, on the other hand, looks like a kid at Christmas. Keep an eye on him.”

Louis shot Zayn a look of betrayal, and Zayn just winked. “Oh god,” Louis said in realization, “I need new friends.”

“Nah,” Zayn said, patting Louis’ hand. “You’re stuck with us now.”

“Really, Louis,” Niall assured him, “it’s not the end of the world.”

“You guys are sworn to secrecy,” Louis cautioned Niall and Zayn. “Forever.”

“Fine, mate,” Niall shrugged easily. “Hey, do you want me to take that DVD back to Harry?”

“No! I mean, no thank you,” Louis said, studiously avoiding Zayn’s eyes. “I’ll return it myself.”

Niall nodded and had the audacity to laugh. “He’s usually in the kitchen around this time. Knock yourself out.”

Louis shook his head and wordlessly picked up Harry’s DVD, then stormed off without a backwards glance. The sound of Niall and Zayn’s laughter followed him most of the way.

Louis walked for exactly forty seconds before he realized he didn’t ask Niall where the kitchen was. Still embarrassed from his conversation with Zayn and Niall, Louis huffed out an exasperated sigh. Louis ended up following his instinct to head towards the welcome pavilion. He imagined he could ask Henri for directions with minimal teasing. Louis’ tense shoulders relaxed as he rounded the corner to see Henri standing outside the pavilion in the shade. Henri took one look at Louis’ expression, then crossed his arms and grinned.

“Louis! How can I help you today?” Henri asked with an expectant smile.

“Hi, Henri,” Louis replied, forcing a smile. “How are you?”

“Well,” Henri mused, “I’m having a nice day, thanks. And you?”

“I honestly don’t know right now,” Louis confessed. “Anyway, I’m looking for Harry?” He hated that it came out as a question.

Henri nodded towards the pavilion. “I believe he’s making lunch,” he replied. “He’ll be in the restaurant kitchen. Would you like me to show you?”

“Thanks, Henri,” Louis said with a grim smile, “but I don’t mind to go alone..”

Henri raised his eyebrows in surprise, then shrugged amiably. “Sure, no problem. Take a right at the concierge desk and follow the signs down the hallway.”

“Thank you,” Louis said as he let out a sigh. “Take care, Henri.”

Henri had the nerve to wink at Louis in farewell. “You too, friend.”

Louis tried to shake off his feeling that this was a bad idea. He walked into the quiet lobby and followed Henri’s directions towards the kitchen. Louis had a plan: say hello to Harry, return the DVD, and then get the hell out of there. Easy.

Louis heard the music before he found its source. As he neared the double doors marked by a small sign reading “Kitchen,” Louis could also hear someone singing. He hesitated outside the double doors, where he could now clearly hear the clatter of dishes and utensils. Louis frowned in confusion, then shrugged as he pushed the door open.

Nothing could have prepared him for the scene he had walked into.

Almost every inch of stainless steel gleamed under the pendant lights overhead. Queen was blasting through a boom box sitting on one spotless countertop. Another expanse of counter space was adjacent to it, and a child was perched on a stool facing away from Louis. Beside her stood Harry. Harry was singing along with Freddie Mercury and preparing what Louis suspected was a salad of sorts. He punctuated his motions by leaning closer to the girl, who Louis could see was Maia, and making her giggle with his dance moves. Louis gave himself permission to smile as Harry sang and swayed his hips.

_There goes my baby_

_She knows how to rock ‘n roll_

Harry had a good singing voice, Louis had to admit. As the song ended, Louis made his presence known with a loud _ahem._ The look on Harry’s face when he spun around yielding salad tongs like a weapon was priceless. He seemed as surprised to see Louis as Louis was watching Harry’s vocal performance. Harry stood frozen to the spot for a moment, looking nervously between Louis and the tongs in his hand. Next to him, Maia turned curiously on her stool and smiled at Louis. Louis made a careful attempt to sign hello to her, and Maia responded with an eager hello. Then she turned back to Harry and signed something so quickly her hands were fairly flying. Harry glanced sideways at her, subtly shaking his head at whatever she said. It was enough to shake Harry out of his daze. He placed the salad tongs behind him on the countertop, then spoke.

“Louis?”

Louis tried to temper his amused expression and nodded. “Hi, Harry.”

“I was making a salad,” Harry said haltingly.

“I see that,” Louis replied. “Didn’t know you were a cook.”

Harry blushed and nodded. “I, um. Used to be a baker.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s cool. Am I interrupting your lunch?”

Harry glanced around as if he was seeing the kitchen for the first time. “Yeah. I mean no! I was just,” Harry added, gesturing towards the salad bowl and the veggies strewn across the countertop.

“Making a salad,” Louis finished Harry’s sentence. “Yeah.”

“Somebody to Love” began playing from the boom box, and Harry reduced the volume distractedly. “Yeah,” he echoed.

“So…” Louis trailed off, tapping the forgotten DVD case against his thigh.

Harry met Louis’ eyes and then nodded towards the source of the music. “When the volume is loud enough, Maia can feel the vibrations and dance along,” Harry offered in explanation. "She wants to be a musician one day."

“Oh, cool,” Louis said with a shy smile.

“That, and it gives me an excuse to listen to good music and get away from the staff for a while,” Harry said with a guilty smile.

“Queen, huh?” Louis asked.

Harry nodded. “Classics all the way. Is that for me?” he asked, pointing to the DVD.

“Hmm?” Louis asked. “Oh, yes. Here you go.”

Harry accepted the offered DVD and replied, “Thank you.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” Louis said. “And I um, added a note of my own.”

Harry’s face brightened at that. “Cool!”

“Yeah, so…” Louis said. “I’ll let you guys to get back to your lunch. Sorry to barge in.”

Harry waved off Louis’ concern. “It’s no problem. Would you like to join us?”

When Louis hesitated for a moment, Harry gave him a hopeful smile. “Please? I think you already rain-checked us once. C’mon, just for a few minutes.”

Louis rolled his eyes but nodded. “Ok. I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Harry cheered. “You’re in charge of mixing the dressing.”

“Um, ok…” Louis agreed. “You’re gonna have to show me.”

“Not a fan of cooking?”

“Does a microwave meal count?” Louis asked.

“No. Definitely not.”

“Then no, I don’t cook,” Louis admitted. “Teach me your ways.”

Harry’s smile grew. “I’d be glad to.” Then Harry turned towards Maia and signed as he continued speaking: “Louis is staying for lunch if that’s ok with you.”

Maia signed back, occasionally shooting Louis sly smiles. Apparently she had a lot to say. Harry did too, judging by the response he gave Maia. Eventually, Harry turned back to Louis with a flushed smile.

“She says yes.”

Louis’ expression was skeptical at the translation, but shrugged. “Awesome. Let’s do this.”

Harry beamed and guided Louis to his own section of counter space. He grabbed a few spices and a mixing bowl, then retrieved a jar of ranch from the refrigerator. Harry set the ingredients in front of Louis, and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“Listen, there’s no possible way you can mess this up,” Harry said with amusement laced in his tone. “Mix the ranch, a bit of each spice, and salt to taste.”

Louis sighed in faux-exasperation but agreed, ignoring the giddy reaction he was feeling from Harry’s gentle hand still resting on his shoulder.

“Good,” Harry said, then walked off to crank up the music again. He handed Maia a spoon. Then he grabbed another mixing bowl off the top of the refrigerator and placed it in front of Maia. “Stir the brownie batter please,” he spoke and signed at once. “No licking the spoon like last time.”

Maia sighed and shot Harry an annoyed look, but must have agreed judging by Harry’s smile at her reply. She reluctantly picked up the spoon and began to mix the batter. Louis caught Maia’s eye and smiled, and she winked in return. Louis chuckled under his breath and then turned to the ingredients for Harry’s ranch dressing. The first spice Louis picked up was labeled Dried Parsley, and he frowned. While he had heard of parsley, Louis couldn’t remember what it tasted like. Harry and Maia appeared to be hard at work on their own tasks, so Louis stealthily popped open the lid and took a cautious sniff of the parsley. It smelled like, well...a spice. Louis shrugged and set the bottle of parsley down, then poured the jar of ranch into the mixing bowl. Despite being careful, Louis splattered a bit of dressing on the stainless steel counter and his hand. Maia glanced over with wide eyes and an even wider smile. Louis shrugged at her, then licked the dressing off the side of his hand. He made a funny face at Maia, and she giggled.

Harry glanced over at Louis and Maia with a curious smile. “What’s all this giggling about then?” he both spoke and teased Maia in sign. Louis cut his eyes towards Maia and shook his head subtly. Just as Maia signed a reply, Louis answered with an amused, “nothing.”

Harry rolled his eyes in response at both Louis and Maia’s replies, yet he was smiling. Harry went back to his salad prep, which seemed to Louis to consist of more veggies than he actually enjoyed. When Harry pulled out an avocado, Louis was ready to mutiny. He watched in horror as Harry deftly sliced the fresh avocado and added the slices into his salad bowl. When Harry spoke, Louis jolted in surprise.

“The avocado is already dead, Louis,” Harry said without looking up from his creation. “No need to shoot death stares at it.”

“Sounds like someone needs to mind their own salad and let the rest of us work,” Louis scoffed, adding a few sprinkles of parsley to his dressing.

“Ha. Well, it sounds like someone should concentrate on the spice distribution in the dressing,” Harry said teasingly.

“Spice distribution?” Louis paused to ask. “Exactly how fancy is this salad?”

“Oh, the fanciest,” Harry replied, flashing Louis a smile.

Louis snickered and shook his head. He did, however, continue to garnish the dressing with the various spices Harry gave him. In addition to black pepper and sea salt, there was also dried dill and granulated garlic and onion. Louis sprinkled in small amounts of each and mixed the ingredients together. When Harry walked to the refrigerator a moment later, Louis swiped a slice of cucumber from his salad bowl and dipped it into the dressing. He chewed thoughtfully, just tasting the flavors, and nodded in satisfaction.

Harry returned with a bowl of crumbled feta and stared at the salad for a moment. “I’m making the executive decision to put the crumbled feta on top of the salad,” Harry explained.

“Ok…?” Louis replied.

Harry continued as he popped a small chunk of feta into his mouth, “I mean, rather than put it in the food processor until it’s ground up, then mix it into the dressing.”

“Sounds good to me,” Louis said.

While Harry added feta to his salad creation, Louis glanced over at Maia. The mixing spoon was halfway to her mouth when she met Louis’ eyes. Maia froze. Louis stifled a laugh and glanced emphatically at Harry, then back to Maia. She sighed dejectedly and returned the spoon to her bowl. Harry had been bustling around the kitchen doing something--Louis had lost track of what--but now he wedged himself in between Louis and Maia. When both of them avoided eye contact, Harry laughed.

“Well, look at this, Louis,” Harry spoke and signed to Maia, “I think we have a thief. And,” he added, fixing Louis with a teasing stare, “an accomplice.”

Maia giggled and signed a quick response to Harry, who smacked a loud kiss on the top of her head. Then he swiped her mixing bowl and carried it back to his work space, where he gracefully poured the brownie mix into a pan and popped it into the oven.

“Yay, brownies!” Louis said as he cast a suspicious glare at Harry’s salad. “My favorite.”

“Maia’s favorite, too,” Harry said, straightening back up with a grin. “Probably why she blamed you for licking the spoon--she didn’t want to get in trouble and miss out on a fresh brownie.”

“She what?!” Louis asked, whirling around to look at Maia. To her credit, Maia just shrugged serenely at Louis. Then she hopped down from her stool and walked to a chair at the large kitchen island. She settled into a chair and folded her hands on top of the butcher-block surface expectantly.

Louis turned to Harry and shook his head. “I had forgotten how sassy they can be at this age,” he said faintly.

Harry chuckled and patted Louis on the back. “Oh, just wait. She’ll try to have you wrapped around her finger soon enough.”

Lunch with Harry and Maia was just what Louis never thought he needed. He didn’t have time to agonize over looking cool in front of Harry when he was eating and watching the exchange between Maia and Harry. The salad was good ( _yes, Harry, but I still don’t like avocados_ , Louis thought to himself), but the conversation was better. Louis could tell that the two of them had been friends for a while. And as a big brother himself, Louis appreciated Harry’s willingness to look after Maia in his probably limited free time.

After Maia had eaten her salad and the oven timer went off, Harry pulled the brownies out of the oven with a flourish. Maia was practically bouncing in her seat with anticipation. Harry let the brownies cool for a few minutes, then in a practiced motion cut a square for Maia and handed it to her on a fresh napkin. She grinned and hugged Harry, waved farewell to Louis, and then scampered out the kitchen door.

Left alone, Harry and Louis shared a fond smile. Harry opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chocolate syrup. “I was going to offer Maia some, but she ran off too fast. More for us.”

Louis watched as Harry grabbed two small plates from a cabinet and placed a generous-sized brownie on each one. He carried the plates and chocolate syrup to the kitchen island where Louis still sat. Louis slid his salad plate to the side to make room for the brownie and inhaled the familiar scent.

Harry drizzled chocolate syrup over his brownie in a steady zigzag pattern, then handed the bottle to Louis. “Have as much as you want,” Harry offered. “I won’t tell.”

Louis smiled and accepted the bottle of syrup. He made the shape of a smiley face on his brownie with the syrup and watched it spread into a blob. “Did they teach you chocolate syrup art at the bakery?” Louis asked.

Harry grinned, his green eyes shining under the fluorescent lights. “No, actually. There was a lot of emphasis on pastry preparation, though.”

“Ah, nice.”

“So you don’t cook much?” Harry asked.

“Believe me, I cook,” Louis replied with a wry smile. “I’m the oldest of seven Tomlinson kids.”

“Wow,” Harry gave a low whistle. “That’s amazing. Are you guys close?”

“Yeah, very,” Louis said. “And when my mother passed, we learned to stick together even more.”

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Harry murmured. “She must have been a wonderful woman.”

Louis smiled. “She really was. Thank you, Harry. Do you have family here?”

Harry shook his head. “My mother and sister are back in London most of the year. They like to come and visit when they can, and then I fly home to see them, too.”

“I bet they’re proud of you,” Louis ventured. “It takes a special person to run a business like the resort. Have you always enjoyed photography, too?”

“Yes!” Harry nodded fervently. “Always. I used to dream of being a professional photographer and, like, traveling all over the world. I guess it’s a work in progress.”

“Event photography still? Or do you want to try something else?” Louis asked.

“Well,” Harry said, “I enjoy what I do now. I’d just like to do it full time, you know?”

“Makes sense,” Louis agreed as he tasted his brownie. “Oh my god. Harry. This brownie.”

“Good?” Harry asked with a hopeful expression.

“So good. Wow,” Louis said, taking another bite. “I guess if the photography business doesn’t pan out, you could always go back to baking.”

Harry blushed and looked down at his own dessert. He tasted a small bite, then smiled. “Not bad, huh?”

“Harry. I’m on the verge of dedicating a novel to this brownie. Or maybe to you,” Louis quipped.

That drew a laugh out of Harry. “Chocolate is your muse. Good to know.”

Louis and Harry ate their desserts in content silence for a few moments, then Harry spoke.

“So Maia seems to like you.”

“Me?” Louis asked in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry assured him. “Not everyone can make her laugh like you did. Granted, she then proceeded to blame you for eating raw brownie batter, but oh well. It’s progress.”

Louis beamed. “She’s a great kid, isn’t she?”

“Maybe I’m biased,” Harry replied, “but I think so. Everyone here has kind of taken her under their wing. She doesn’t have a lot of friends her age right now, but she does have us.”

“That’s too bad about the other kids. They’re missing out,” Louis said.

“Yeah, and you know, kids can be mean, whether they mean to or not. She’s different, which makes her stand out.”

“Wow,” Louis replied. “I hate that. But I know it’s true; kids haven’t changed much since I was in school. It’s not a time I’d want to relive.”

“Me neither,” Harry agreed with a sad smile. And then, “Well, damn. I killed the happy vibes, huh?”

Louis shook his head. “Nah. I’m having a blast with this brownie. And you’re ok, I guess.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“So, Harry said, collecting their plates and carrying them to the sink on the other side of the island, “any plans for today?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, flashing back to reality. “I have to keep writing. Can I help you with those?” he asked Harry, gesturing to the dishes.

“Oh, no. That’s ok. I’m just rinsing them to put in the dishwasher so that later, I can come back and turn it on, in case no one else does.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Louis said.

“I’m sure. Thank you though,” Harry said with a smile. When Louis hesitated, Harry walked around the island and braced his hands on Louis’ shoulders. “Seriously, go,” Harry insisted, punctuating his words with a squeeze to Louis’ shoulders. “Get out in the sunshine for a while. This will literally take me two minutes.”

Louis in turn placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Great! Then it’ll only take one minute if I help.”

Harry served Louis a flat stare, which Louis decided to ignore. Louis just smiled placidly, stepped out of the frame of Harry’s arms, and walked to their previous work space to clean up. Harry was standing with his arms crossed, not moving.

“You coming?” Louis called over his shoulder. “I’m about to pick out the avocados and throw them in the trash.”

Apparently, that got Harry in gear. “Absolutely not. Don’t mess with my avocados,” he replied, crossing the kitchen to stand at Louis’ side.

“How do you sign, ‘make me’?” Louis quipped.

In response, Harry wordlessly lifted his middle finger to Louis.

“Now, that’s just immature, Harry,” Louis tried to reprimand, but he was smiling. “Get to work.”

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh, and then began carrying bowls and utensils to the sink to rinse. “Bossy,” Louis could have sworn Harry said under his breath as he worked. Louis simply smiled and tossed a slice of avocado at the side of Harry’s head.

After parting ways with Harry, who was apparently headed to his office to work, Louis strolled back to his villa. He vowed not to take it personally if Harry never decided to text him. Harry was a busy guy, and Louis had a lot on his plate as well. So Louis returned to his makeshift writing station at the dining table and reread what he had written that morning.

It wasn’t bad, Louis realized. Sure, the dialogue might have been a bit stilted, but Louis knew the characters had just met for the first time. He hoped things would smooth out once they got to know each other. Louis was also surprised to find that he now had ten pages of material, not counting his research. He had taken meticulous notes on things like average wages of musicians in California and the number of bars with live music in a given neighborhood. Overall, Louis was pleased with his progress. He had already shared the storyline with Zayn, but before he pitched it to Liam, there was one more person Louis wanted to consult.

Lottie answered on the third ring with a bright hello. Louis smiled at the sound of her voice.

“Louis!” Lottie called. “Thank goodness. I need to speak to a real adult for a while.”

Louis laughed. “Kids wearing you out, then?”

“You very well know they are. Angels, every one of them. When it suits them, that is!”

“Sounds about right,” Louis replied. “How are you doing?”

Lottie gave a brief summary of her day applying for jobs around town and sounded positive despite knowing the uncertainty of the job market. “But enough about me, Lou. How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m doing fine,” Louis said, slouching back in his chair. “Had a nice day; got some writing done. Can’t decide if everyone here is growing on me, or if I’m actually losing my mind.”

“Ah. One of those days, huh?”

“Yeah. But things are good,” Louis replied. “Just had a memorable lunch. Ate a delicious brownie.”

“Better than mine?” Lottie asked.

“Well,” Louis pondered, “there was chocolate syrup involved. Next level stuff, Lots.”

“Mhm. And who were you eating brownies with?” Lottie asked.

“That’s...um...why does that matter?” Louis frowned.

“Because,” Lottie huffed into the phone, “you’re acting weird. Like, very relaxed and happy. Were they magic brownies?”

“Ha. It wasn’t that kind of party.”

“Ok, well, the only other person I know of at the resort besides Zayn is that guy, oh, what’s his name? Henry?”

Louis winced at what was coming. “You mean Harry?”

“Yes! Harry,” Lottie exclaimed. “The guy you verbally eviscerated and then went to apologize to. You did apologize, right?”

“Of course! And yes, Harry made the brownies. And the salad with avocados.”

“You hate avocados.”

“Well, yeah. I threw one at his head,” Louis replied, smiling at the memory.

“Oh god.”

“What?” Louis asked. “He was fine.”

“And then what happened?” Lottie continued.

“And then, nothing,” Louis said. “I gave him my phone number, and then I left. What’s the big deal?”

“Ok, Lou,” Lottie explained patiently, as if she was talking to one of the little twins instead of her older brother, “Do you like him?”

“I mean...sure, I guess.”

“Something’s not adding up here. What did you leave out earlier?” Lottie pressed.

“I don’t know. He let me borrow his _Captain America_ DVD, and he wrote me a note calling me captivating. So I wrote back with my phone number, because apparently when I’m near him I lose basic functions like the ability to say thank you like a normal person. That’s all, really,” Louis said.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Louis replied.

“Did he text you?”

“No idea. I’ve been on the phone with you,” Louis shrugged. “And honestly, Lots, it’s no big deal if he doesn’t text me. We’re just friends, maybe. Maybe friends. Call me maybe.”

“Ha, ha,” Lottie said, sounding amused. “So you don’t care if he never texts you? No big deal?”

“Sure,” Louis said breezily. “Nothing I’ll lose sleep over.”

“Right.”

“Anyway,” Louis replied, dragging out the syllables for emphasis, “that’s not why I called you.”

“Oh, ok. What’s up then?”

“Let me run a story idea by you.”

Louis spent the rest of the afternoon doing two things: first, he revised what he had already written, and then second, he began finalizing plot points for his story. Louis wondered if other writers detested revision like he did; it was a tedious yet necessary chore he hadn’t quite yet learned to embrace. Of course, after receiving his manuscript for _Home_ from the publisher the first time, teeming with errors, Louis had vowed to pay more attention to his problem areas. He now knew, for example, that he had a problem with using pronouns in place of character names, which sometimes caused confusion. He knew that he occasionally was redundant. Did Stephen King ever get a manuscript back covered with corrections? Or was Louis still an imposter just playing writer, and outsider, a fraud? These were things that loomed over Louis’ head when he sat down to write sometimes.

The feedback Louis got from both Lottie and Zayn alike basically amounted to this: Louis had to determine the real heart of the story, and let that inform how things unfolded. What was the real message Louis was trying to convey? His mother had always urged him to write from the heart. But lately, whenever Louis really did some soul searching, he always ended up back at his own family--back to his mother’s last Christmas; to the hospital room that Louis could still navigate in his sleep; to holding the youngest twins on his lap at Jay’s memorial service. For months now, Louis had skirted around a story that clearly wanted to be written. But his contract required fiction, not memoir. Louis had to figure out a way to channel his own experiences into the novel if he ever wanted to get a full night’s sleep again.

Louis still didn’t know all the details about his fictional character, Miles. But he did know loss. Louis hated to put Miles through tragedy in his story, or any other character, but he felt sure that was the heart of the issue--loss, and how it could cast a shadow on a person’s future relationships. Suddenly, he had a very different story than the one he set out to write. This would take some time to adjust to, but time was something Louis did not have.

Louis did, however, have passion to tell this story. It was both personal and alien to him, given that while he did have firsthand experience with loss, he didn’t yet have Miles’ capability to easily form new friendships and trust people. Louis knew he was guarded and often suspicious of people’s motives, and it had led to crushing isolation. But Miles’ story didn’t have to mirror that. Miles could have a happier ending.

Louis lost track of time as began sketching out some of Miles’ past for the story, only pausing to save his progress. Eventually, Zayn began texting and then knocking on Louis’ door, and Louis had to take a break for dinner. He tried not to monopolize the conversation by talking too much about his work, but now he was excited. To his credit, Zayn understood the feeling of truly being in the zone as a writer. It didn’t always happen, but when it did, Zayn and Louis both knew to just trust the process and go with it.

“I just have one question,” Zayn said at the end of their meal. “Are you going to be ok writing this?”

“I mean, probably,” Louis said, fidgeting with his water glass. “Ideally, I’d have an additional year to come to terms with my own experience and emotions. But I don’t have that kind of time. So I’m kind of diving in and hoping for the best.”

Zayn gazed off into the distance, absorbing Louis’ answer, and then nodded slowly. “I agree it’s not ideal. Shit, there’s still some aspects of all this that you haven’t even talked about yet. And maybe you never will, which is ok. But this one is going to take a toll on you, Lou. I’m a little concerned you’re gonna do that thing where you barricade yourself in your flat and don’t come out for days at a time.”

Louis shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what’s going to help prevent that.”

“Neither do I,” Zayn sighed. “But one thing I don’t doubt at all is your ability to produce a great novel. So go forth, write, reflect, whatever you need to do to work through it.”

“Thanks, Z. I’m going to do my best.”

Louis and Zayn walked back to their villas well past dark and said goodnight at their own doors. Louis had pointedly not checked his phone for messages during dinner, but now the curiosity was killing him. Louis saw right away when he unlocked his phone that he had no new messages, and reminded himself it was not a big deal if Harry wasn’t interested. Louis still wasn’t sure what exactly he was interested in himself--being friends? Dating? None of the above?

Louis decided that the best thing to do at that time of night was to just go to bed. He took a shower and let the hot water ease some of the knots in his shoulders from sitting at the computer all afternoon. Then he brushed his teeth, plugged his phone into his charger on the bedside table, and crawled into bed. A glance at the clock revealed it was only 9:30 p.m. Usually a hot shower helped him go to sleep, but Louis was awake and restless. He let his head thump back against the headboard of his bed, wondering how to pass the time. The rest of the Tomlinson kids were sleeping, so the group text was out of the question. Louis knew he had reached his writing threshold for the day, so that wouldn’t do either. Resigning himself to flipping through movie choices on the TV, Louis climbed out of bed to grab the remote. That’s when his phone dinged.

Louis froze. While his instinct was to look at the message immediately, Louis needed a moment to collect his thoughts. If this was just Zayn sending a random message, Louis was going to relax and get back in bed. If it was Harry, and he was texting just to say a polite thanks, but no thanks, Louis wasn’t ready to read it yet. And if it was Harry and he was interested, then what would Louis say? Suddenly, giving Harry his number felt like a bad idea. Louis realized he was standing in the middle of the bedroom floor looking as nervous as he felt, and that sparked a reaction. Since when was Louis anxious to read a text from a guy? This was unprecedented and frankly annoying.

Louis shook his head, walked back to the bedside table, and picked up his phone. If his hands were shaking, it was no one’s business. Louis navigated to his messages and squeezed his eyes closed. _This was not a big deal_ , Louis tried to reason with himself. _Open the text._ Louis took a deep breath and opened his eyes. With Louis’ luck, it was just a text from Zayn. But as he looked down at the most recent message, Louis realized it was from an unknown number. Louis’ pulse raced as he clicked on the message to open it. He read the message once, then twice. And then Louis smiled.

_Did you know jellyfish have existed for over 500 million years? Sorry, this is Harry. Styles. At the resort. Anyway, hi!_

Louis considered the fun fact, then worded his reply.

_Louis: Hi! Either you got that one from Google or Niall, and honestly I don’t know which is worse lol_

Harry’s reply came seconds later:

_Heyyyy_

_Wrong on both counts, ha! Maia told me that._

Louis smiled fondly. He tended to overthink these things, so he replied with the first thing that came to his mind.

_Louis: So if I were to fact check you, it would be true?_

_Harry: And by fact check, you mean Wikipedia, right?_

_Louis: THE NERVE. I WOULD NEVER...confess to that :)_

While Harry typed his response, Louis settled back into bed. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table next, just in case this turned into an actual conversation. Then Harry replied:

_Harry: hahaha so even writers use that site?_

_Louis: Mate, everyone uses it. Accept Wikipedia 2K19!_

_Harry: Do you have a Wikipedia page for yourself?_

Louis frowned at the question--he had no idea.

_Louis: Probably not. Maybe I should make one?_

_Harry: I would be more than happy to help you with that ;)_

_Louis: I’m trying to imagine the things you would write…_

_Harry: Only good things, of course! I’m going to need a photo though. All the famous people have a photo._

Louis pondered for a moment, then went to the camera on his phone. He smiled a little wider than most sane people might, then took a selfie. When he texted it to Harry, a reply came a few moments later.

_Harry: Describe that smile in ten words or less._

_Louis: I have candy in the van._

Louis chuckled out loud as he sent his reply, and he realized he was having fun talking to Harry. To his credit, Harry only texted back in emojis: a clown face that made Louis’ eyes bug out in surprise, followed by three knives in a row. Louis was both horrified and charmed, and he told Harry so. Fleetingly, he wondered what Harry was doing at that time of night.

_Harry: This is helping me build a great profile for your Wiki page. It’s like Dr. Seuss meets the guy from The Shining._

_Louis: The movie where the writer loses his mind?_

_Harry: haha yes!_

_Louis: He attempts murder, Harry._

_Harry: Good point. I should keep an eye on you. And nice glasses in the pic btw!_

_Louis: Thanks! God, is it really 10:30?_

_Harry: Oh god. Yes. And I have to be up at 6 a.m._

_Louis: Damn. Better go to bed then_

_Harry: You go to bed_

_Louis: Make me_

_Harry: If you want me to come over, Louis, you can just say it lol_

_Louis: I’m locking the door right now. Also, I’m already in bed. Your move_

Harry took a moment to reply, so Louis clicked off the lamp on the bedside table and prepared to go to sleep. Amazingly, he was sleepy now. When Harry’s reply finally came, Louis rolled his eyes in the dark.

_Harry: I was already in bed before you. I’m gonna beat you to sleep, too. Goodnight!_

_Louis: Sweet dreams then! Night!_

Louis set his phone down on the bedside table, and then curled up on his side wondering if Harry really would beat him in falling asleep. He dozed off with a smile on his face.

Louis awoke a few hours later in pitch dark to the sound of a series of texts. Groggy and not quite rested yet, Louis reached for his phone and squinted at the bright screen. It was 4 a.m. The messages were all from Liam.

_Hey, Lou. I wanted to tell you as soon as I saw this. Sorry._

_Do you have any idea who could have done this?_

_Oh, shit. It’s rly early there, isn’t it?_

_Ok, go back to bed. Sorry._

The attached image showed a pixelated Louis and Zayn embracing outside Zayn’s villa door. Louis groaned, already imagining the suggestive headlines. The photo was actually linked to a Daily Mail news story. In bold letters, the headline read, “Making waves in the Caribbean: Zayn and Louis’ private getaway revealed!”

Louis didn’t bother reading the story. The headline said it all. Instead, Louis texted Liam a quick confirmation that he had seen the article. Then he dropped his phone back onto the bedside table and curled up on his side. Louis knew that Harry and Niall would want to know about this new security breach, but Louis was too overwhelmed to broach the subject with them right now. His phone screen went dark, and then Louis’ bedroom was once again immersed in darkness. Louis stared in the direction of his family photo on the bedside table, wishing he could call his mother. Jay would listen patiently to Louis’ dilemma, pour him a cup of tea, and then help him work out a plan to solve things. Most importantly, she would punctuate her reassurances with tight hugs. Louis imagined he could live another sixty years and still remember the feeling of his mother’s embrace. He even thought about what she would say in this situation with the press.

_Louis, what’s upsetting you the most?_

_The fact that they’d prefer to focus on my personal life instead of my life’s work,_ Louis would say.

_How does it make you feel?_

Louis knew this answer instinctively: _Worthless. Cheap._

 _You’re neither of those things, darling,_ Jay would say. _And the ones who really matter know the real you._

A tear slowly dripped down Louis’ cheek in his dark villa as he imagined his response: _I just feel lost._

Jay would smile warmly and pull him into a hug. _We all do sometimes. Know what I do when I start to feel that way?_

 _What?_ Louis would say, sinking into Jay’s embrace.

_I think of something good I’ve done in my life. I’m thinking of one right now._

_Which one?_

_The day I had you,_ Jay would say confidently. _I saw you for the first time and knew I would love you all my life._

Louis let the tears fall unchecked now in the dark bedroom. _I love you, too. I miss you._

Jay would just pull Louis in tighter and rub his back in soothing strokes.

Alone in his villa, Louis drifted back to sleep with tear-stained cheeks, imagining that for the first time since Jay’s death, someone who loved him was really there comforting him.

Breakfast that morning with Zayn was somber. Louis knew that their friendship would survive this round of news headlines; he was mostly worried about telling Harry what happened. Louis didn’t want to burden Harry with his problems when he was already running a resort and a side business. Around 9:30, Louis worked up the courage to text him.

To Louis’ initial message of _Good morning,_ Harry responded in about two minutes.

_Harry: Good morning! How are you?_

_Louis: I’m hanging in there. Listen, I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to stay calm._

_Harry: ? ok ?_

_Louis: Someone sent new pictures of me and Zayn to the Daily Mail. I’m sending you the link._

While he waited for Harry’s response, Louis scanned the now-familiar restaurant and surrounding area for anything unusual. All Louis saw was families eating breakfast and a few dedicated people claiming lounge chairs in the sun. A ding to Louis’ phone brought him back to the matter at hand.

_Harry: Son of a bitch._

_Harry: Not you, sorry. I mean whoever is doing this._

_Harry: Are you ok?_

Louis quirked a small smile at Harry’s kindness. _I’m doing ok, no worries,_ he replied.

_Harry: Where are you? Can you come to my office?_

_Louis: Just finished breakfast. I can head over now._

_Harry: I’m notifying Niall, if that’s ok. Bring Zayn if you’d like._

Harry texted Louis the location of his office in the Welcome Pavilion, and Louis filled Zayn in on their conversation. Their waiter--Glenn? Greg?--politely cleared their table, and Louis tried to smile in return. He said a quick thank you, and then he led Zayn to Harry’s office.

The door was ajar when Louis and Zayn arrived at the location Harry texted, and Louis knocked hesitantly. Voices were murmuring inside, but at the sound of Louis knocking, Harry said, “Come on in.”

Louis glanced at Zayn, who shrugged, and then he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Louis raised his eyebrows at the sight before him: crayon artwork on the walls mixed with black and white photographs of St. Lucia, Niall perched on the edge of a large desk littered with post-it notes and documents, and Harry behind the desk with his elbows propped up. He sat with his brow furrowed and hair slightly unruly, as if he had been running his hands through it, and his chin propped on his hands. When he made eye contact with Louis, Harry’s expression softened.

“Louis! Hey. Hi, Zayn. Please come in. Have a seat.” Harry gestured at two vacant chairs in front of his desk.

“Welcome to the war room, lads,” Niall said in greeting. “Sorry this has happened again.”

“I’ve already notified my security team that we’re on alert for the duration of your stay,” Harry said. “I’m just reviewing the security tapes from the past two days for any signs of suspicious behavior.”

“Any leads?” Zayn asked.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair, looking fatigued. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, Louis realized. He worried that Harry was going to have a long day.

“None yet,” Harry admitted. “Niall was just mentioning the quality of the photos before you came in.”

Niall nodded. “The photos are kind of grainy, like they were taken with a phone rather than an upscale camera.”

“What does that indicate?” Louis asked curiously.

“Basically,” Harry said, gazing into Louis’ eyes, “this person might be confident that he or she can track you guys around the resort without seeming out of place.”

Louis narrowed his eyes in thought. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Niall said, “your wannabe pap blends in rather than stands out.”

“You’re thinking employee?” Zayn asked.

“It’s a possibility,” Harry admitted. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “The question is who?”

“And what can we do to prevent this from happening again?” Niall continued.

“Ok,” Louis said, musing over this information. “So what’s the plan?”

Harry’s eyes snapped back to Louis’, and he leaned closer across his desk. “We could install a camera outside your villas, for one thing. I don’t think you are in danger, with the exception of your reputations. But we could still assign you each security if you’d prefer.”

Louis exchanged a glance with Zayn and mulled it over. “I’m thinking yes to the camera, but no to the security.”

“I think that would only draw more attention to ourselves,” Zayn suggested.

“From there, it would just be a matter of reviewing the tapes each night,” Harry said. “I’d be glad to do that.”

“I can help,” Louis offered. “You don’t have to do this all alone.”

Harry bit his lip in consideration. “Maybe two sets of eyes are better than one,” he finally conceded.

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Zayn asked, looking from Harry to Niall.

Niall shrugged. “Write. Hang out. Have a margarita. We’ve got your backs, ok?”

Zayn nodded slowly. “I might take you up on that margarita sooner than later.”

Niall grinned for the first time during the war room meeting. “Good call. It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Zayn turned to face Louis. “You in, Lou?”

Louis smiled at Zayn and shook his head. “Rain check? I might go for a walk.”

“Sure,” Zayn said, patting Louis on the back as he stood and followed Niall presumably towards the bar. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Have fun,” Louis called over his shoulder. His eyes were fixed on Harry’s though.

“Don’t work too hard, boss,” Niall quipped as he led Zayn through the door.

Louis could hear Zayn and Niall chatting as their footsteps echoed down the hall. Once they were out of earshot, Harry shot Louis a wry smile.

“Not the best start to your day, I imagine,” Harry said.

“I’ve had better,” Louis shrugged. “But listen, don’t stress about this too much. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I make the Twitter headlines.”

Harry shook his head. “Are you ok, though? Really?”

“Really, really,” Louis replied. “How are you?”

“Kind of tired,” Harry admitted. “I could use a nap.”

“Any events to photograph today?”

“Nah. Got a birthday party tomorrow, though. Should be fun,” Harry said.

“You should hire an assistant,” Louis suggested. “You can clearly do it all yourself, but maybe it would make things a little easier.”

“Hmm. Are you applying for this assistant role?”

“Clearly. I have a stellar CV.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Harry said, perking up a bit. “I started the Wikipedia project.”

Louis’ eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t mean…”

“Ah, but I do,” Harry answered with a gleam in his green eyes. “Every successful author needs a Wiki page of his or her own. We’ve discussed this.”

“Jesus,” Louis said faintly. “Can I see it?”

“Nope,” Harry said, popping the “p” in the word. “Maybe later.”

“Harry.”

“Louis.”

“You know I’m going to read it before you post it,” Louis warned. “Besides, how are you going to get all the details of my life without my help?”

“I have my ways,” Harry said. He had the nerve to wink.

Louis rolled his eyes and smiled. “Good luck, I guess. Now, should we review the rest of the security tapes?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Thought you’d never ask. Pull up a chair.”

An hour later, all Harry and Louis had discovered from watching the security footage from the past two days was that the bellhop, Henri, stood on his feet working for entirely too long. That, and also the fact that they had developed eye strain and sore muscles from crowding around the computer screen. The spiral notepad Harry had planned to write notes or ideas on was now covered in doodles of mermaids, and Louis was very close to taking a nap on Harry’s desk.

“Hey Louis?” Harry asked as he leaned back in his chair to stretch.

“Hmm?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Mmm,” Louis mumbled, letting his eyes close for a long moment. “Yes.”

Louis heard Harry chuckle quietly beside him, and the next second, Louis felt a warm hand pat his back.

“Louis,” Harry whispered, “we need to get up and walk a bit. You can’t sleep at my desk all day.”

“Is that a challenge?” Louis smiled sleepily.

“That is an order.”

Harry’s patient but firm tone triggered a memory for Louis, and suddenly he was back on the beach watching Harry organize a wedding party for photographs. Just the mental image of Harry snapping his fingers and saying, “Pay attention,” made Louis’ dick twitch. At some point, Harry had stopped patting Louis’ back and instead rested his hand between Louis’ shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles. Louis realized he was one snap of Harry’s fingers away from crawling into Harry’s lap and begging for anything he was willing to give Louis. And that, well. That wouldn’t do. Here Harry sat, going out of his way to help Louis solve a problem like a real friend, and Louis was thinking about sex. Again.

Reluctantly, Louis sat up straight in his chair and sighed. “Okay, I’m up.” _In more ways than one,_ Louis thought to himself.

“Ready for a walk?” Harry asked as he took his hand off Louis’ back.

“Is this walk going to feature food at some point?” Louis asked in return.

“Maybe,” Harry laughed. “Come and see.”

Harry stood and stretched his back with a series of pops, then offered a hand to Louis. Louis bit back a sarcastic comment when he met Harry’s eyes and found him to be smiling a sleepy, soft expression at Louis. Louis smiled back and took Harry’s hand, then stood up. He only realized he was still holding Harry’s hand when Harry gently let go halfway into the walk through the Welcome Pavilion.

Louis found Zayn half an hour later reclining on a lounge chair facing the water, an empty margarita glass on the table beside him. Zayn appeared to be deep in thought as he flipped through the pages of his latest journal, so Louis led Harry towards the bar instead. Niall was mixing a drink for someone sitting at the bar, while several others appeared to be waiting in line. Harry motioned for Louis to wait a moment and tapped a few buttons on his watch.

“There,” Harry said, eyes flickering to meet Louis’. “Niall is supposed to call for backup when the bar gets busy like this, but he never does. I can’t decide if he’s just that stubborn, or if he actually enjoys multitasking. Or both.”

Louis watched Niall working for a moment, impressed by the way he appeared to chat with guests while making drinks simultaneously. He turned back to face Harry.

“It seems like he actually likes it,” Louis conceded. “Kudos to him. I can’t multitask at all.”

“Me neither,” Harry replied. “That’s why I messaged the on-call bartender to come by. There he is.”

Louis followed Harry’s line of sight to watch as a man approached at a brisk walk. It was the same waiter who had served them breakfast a few hours ago. As he approached, the man smiled at Harry and Louis.

“Hey, boss,” the man called.

Harry smiled patiently. “Greg, I told you to call me Harry. I believe you’ve met Louis?”

“Yes, sir--I mean, Harry. Hello Mr. Tomlinson. Sorry. Louis, right?”

Louis smiled at the man and nodded. Greg, to his credit, was cheerful and handsome. Freckles dusted his face, and his sandy brown hair was streaked with blonde, most likely from sun exposure at the resort. He was nearly as tall as Harry. (If Louis preferred Harry’s looks to Greg’s, no one had to know.)

“Greg, if you don’t mind to assist Niall at the bar, I’ll check the status of food orders.”

“No problem, Harry,” Greg replied with a polite smile.

“Thank you. And Louis,” Harry said, turning towards Louis, “you’re welcome to take a menu to join Zayn. If you’d like to relax a little, go for it. I’ll be in touch about...um. The thing. Ok?”

Louis cracked a smile and patted Harry on the arm. “You’re the boss,” he quipped.

For a moment, Harry’s eyes glazed over as he stared at Louis. He snapped out of it a moment later, subtly shaking his head, and smiled at Louis. “I, um. Thanks. See you later?” Compared to a few moments ago, Harry’s voice sounded awkward to Louis. Before Louis could figure out why, Harry waved quickly in farewell and then fairly sprinted back towards his office.

Louis didn’t realize he was staring off into the distance Harry had vanished to until Greg politely cleared his throat. Louis turned back to face him, feeling as dazed as Harry had sounded.

“I’ll grab you a menu, Louis,” Greg said. “Feel free to go sit wherever you like.”

“Thank you,” Louis replied with a faint smile, even as his stomach was sinking. Had he scared Harry off that easily? Why did Louis have to go and make things awkward? Jesus.

Louis traced his way down across the sand and sat down in the lounge chair beside Zayn. For a moment, Zayn didn’t speak. He scribbled something in his journal, then spoke without ever looking up.

“I recommend the mango margarita in this situation.”

“In what situation?” Louis asked with a slight frown.

Zayn finally made eye contact with Louis. Zayn was staring into Louis’ eyes like he could see right into his mind.

“Lou, you’re practically radiating anxiety. Nobody should be this stressed before noon. Just try to relax, ok? Everything will work out.”

Louis smiled a little. “That mango margarita made you philosophical. Damn.”

The two sat in companionable silence for a few moments, and Louis stared out at the waves lapping onto the shore.

“Hey, Lou?” Zayn asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“What’s a synonym for fun?”

One mango margarita led to another, brought to them on a tray by an amused Marcus, and soon Louis and Zayn were giggling together on their lounge chairs. After Liam’s early wake-up call, followed by the weird tension between him and Harry, Louis was relieved to just take a break. At some point, Louis and Zayn had begun reliving their dating mishaps. For all his stoicism, Zayn could laugh until he cried discussing his exes. Naturally, Louis teased him; it was too easy, seeing as Zayn had a type. He gravitated towards passionate people, people who wanted to change the world in some fascinating way. There had been the journalist who wrote a weekly column about local heroes; the pediatrician from Doctors Without Borders; the owner of an animal shelter; the teacher who devoted free time to a community literacy project.

Louis laughed freely about End Rhyme Ben and his other exes as Zayn discussed them. While Louis professed not to have a type to anyone who asked, Zayn knew the truth. Louis had once drunkenly confessed his ideal partner to Zayn: someone patient and kind, willing to take things at a slow pace, but who also called Louis out on his tendency to put up a wall between himself and others. Someone who could challenge Louis to recognize when he needed to work harder and when he needed to ask for help. Someone who earned Louis’ trust.

Not surprisingly to Louis, this person didn’t seem to exist. Louis was 27 now and caught between worrying that all his chances had passed him by and that maybe he needed to lower his standards. Except Louis knew deep down that he hadn’t waited this long to commit to just anyone who offered to buy him a drink. While he was loath to admit it, Louis held on to a shred of hope that things would work out for the best. Whether single or committed to a partner, Louis knew he would eventually be ok.

By the time his giddiness had worn off, Louis was halfway back to his villa behind Zayn when his phone rang. When the name Harry and a sunflower emoji flashed across his phone screen, Louis’ heart skipped a beat. He had a feeling Harry would only call during his workday if he had news.

“Hello?” Louis said as he accepted the call. “Harry?”

“Hey, Louis,” Harry replied. “How are you doing?”

Louis shared a confused expression with Zayn before he answered. “I guess I’m doing ok. Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” Harry was quick to clarify. “Just wanted to let you know the security team has installed a camera between your villa and Zayn’s, just to be on the safe side.”

Louis paused for a moment as the gravity of the situation hit him. “Do you suspect—I mean, is there a real threat to our safety?”

“Probably not,” Harry said. “It’s mostly a precaution. But just in case, we’re also sending Jake from security to patrol by your villas a couple times a day.”

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Are you watching the camera right now?” Louis asked as he approached his villa door.

There was a sound of someone talking in the background, followed by Harry answering Louis’ question.

“I can see you, yes. I can also access the video feed remotely from my phone, but only if necessary. I’m not trying to scare you; just wanted to let you know.”

Louis waved at a spot between his door and Zayn’s, which happened to be a lofty palm tree, and smiled.

“Ok. Can you see me clearly?” Louis asked.

“Yep,” Harry replied.

Zayn leaned in closer to Louis to wave at the camera, then unlocked his villa and stepped inside. Left alone with the camera and Harry on his phone, Louis leaned against the exterior of his villa, staring upwards in search of the camera. He felt oddly self-conscious.

“Hey, Harry?” Louis asked after a moment.

“Yeah, Louis?”

“I’m very careful, you know? But it’s still nice to know you’re there if something happened. Thank you.”

“Of course, Lou,” Harry replied.

Louis’ heart fluttered at the way the nickname sounded coming from Harry. He felt himself blushing and wondered if Harry could see it on his screen. “I’m just gonna…go inside. I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Sounds good. Maybe apply some aloe? Did you know your cheeks look a little red?”

Louis wordlessly flashed the camera his middle finger. The sound of Harry’s laughter brought a reluctant smile to Louis’ face as he offered a goodbye and promptly ended the call.

Louis wasted no time in sending his incomplete manuscript to Liam by email. Then he opened the document on his laptop and contemplated his next scene. Louis had a vision of his main character, Miles, sitting on the fire escape outside his window at night and strumming his guitar. It was an homage to Louis’ favorite scene in _Breakfast at Tiffany’s._ While Miles played mostly upbeat songs for others, he tended to save the quieter songs for himself. In the scene Louis imagined, Miles was sipping a beer and picking out the rhythm to the Avett Brothers’ “No Hard Feelings.”

_When my feet won’t walk another mile_

_And my lips give their last kiss goodbye_

_Will my hands be steady?_

It was a song Louis had listened to after his mother’s death when he was deep in his own emotions. He recalled one night cooking mac and cheese for his sisters and brother with the song on repeat while they watched a Disney movie in the next room; he let the tears drip down his cheeks as he absorbed the lyrics.

Louis lost track of time once again as he sketched out the scene with Miles and his guitar. As his earlier buzz wore off, Louis found himself feeling lonely and dehydrated at the dining table in his quiet villa. He slowly stood from his chair and trudged to the kitchen for a glass of water. Louis was surprised to see as he looked out his patio door that the sun was going down. He had been working for hours. The sunset was achingly gorgeous, and Louis stared for a long moment before turning away to drink his water. He glanced at his phone sitting on the dining table. Louis had gotten no calls or texts in hours, and his fingers were itching to reach out to someone. Louis’ first instinct was to call Lottie, but he hesitated. It was late back home. Louis looked around his villa for a moment, considering why he suddenly needed company. The now-familiar walls stared back at him, offering no clues.

Louis huffed an impatient sigh, then picked up his phone. He shut his laptop. As he walked towards the bedroom, Louis opened his recent messages on his phone. He knew now who he wanted to talk to. Louis perched on the bed and opened his conversation with Harry.

 _Hi,_ Louis typed. _Not still working, are you?_

Louis could see when Harry opened his message and began typing back. He bit his lip, feeling a little anxious. Harry’s message came a few moments later.

_Harry: I’m off the clock. How are you doing?_

_Louis: Doing ok. Kind of needing company._

It was new for Louis, reaching out to a friend like this. For one terrifying second, Louis worried that Harry would turn him down. Then a message came through.

_Harry: Come to the beach. Bring a sweater._

Louis’ eyes widened in surprise. He typed out a quick _On my way,_ then grabbed a faded navy hoodie and his room key on his way out the door.

Louis found Harry sitting on his patchwork quilt facing the water, with soft music playing on his phone. Louis smiled as he approached Harry. He stopped at the quilt’s edge and carefully toed off his sandals. Harry looked up with a small smile and gestured for Louis to join him. When Louis had sat down on the quilt comfortably, Harry spoke.

“Is everything ok?”

Louis met Harry’s concerned gaze and nodded slowly. “I think so. I don’t know. Sorry.”

Harry’s smile went a bit softer as he studied Louis. “You don’t have to apologize, Louis. But if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Louis realized the song playing on Harry’s phone was Norah Jones’ “Don’t Know Why.” Louis smiled and picked at the frayed hem of his hoodie.

“I don’t know; maybe I’m just being dramatic. I just didn’t want to be alone,” Louis confessed.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, then stared out at the bay for a moment before he replied.

“Honestly? Neither did I.”

“You had a long day,” Louis guessed as he smoothed his fingers over the care-worn quilt.

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “But I’m used to long days here. I guess I’ve just been thinking.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked. “What about?”

“Mostly just life. How my life has turned out compared to what I expected.”

“I hear that,” Louis nodded. “There’s both good and bad moments. Which are you thinking about?”

“The good ones, I guess,” Harry replied. “I try to look on the bright side.”

“But?”

“But,” Harry sighed, staring down at his hands, “I’m in a weird place now. I’m content with my job, but I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Has that ever happened to you?”

“Many times,” Louis said. “I wish I could tell you there was an easy fix. It’s like a quarter-life crisis.”

“Damn,” Harry said as he watched the sky turn darker over the water. “It really is.”

Louis smiled a little sadly. “Did you ever play the timeline game in school?”

Harry turned back to face Louis. “The what?”

“The timeline game. We used to play it in lit class with story plots. So it’s like this,” Louis explained, drawing a straight line in the sand. Then he punctuated the line with small marks every few inches. “You make a strike through the timeline for every major event in the story.” Louis pointed to a strike through roughly halfway through the timeline. “So imagine you’re reading _The Great Gatsby,_ and this is the point where Gatsby allows Daisy to drive the car, right?”

“Ok, right,” Harry said, studying the diagram in the sand.

“And now you isolate that moment and ask, what would happen if Daisy had never gotten behind the wheel? How would that change the ending of the story?” Louis asked.

“I get what you’re saying,” Harry said. “Do you mean you imagine doing this to your own life timeline?”

“Why not? Want me to go first?”

“Sure,” Harry answered. “Go for it.”

“Ok,” Louis said, taking a deep breath. He erased the timeline in the sand, then drew another line in its place. He drew the first strike mark. “Here’s me at age seven, sitting at the family desktop computer in my mum’s house. This really happened,” he assured Harry. “At the time, I was writing a story about a pirate ship. But let’s say that instead of the computer, my mum handed me a football and sent me out to play. Let’s say she didn’t take my writing seriously. So then here,” Louis continued, drawing another strike through the line, “at age 14, instead of sending a short story to a local contest, I’m here on a football team.” Louis drew a few more strike marks. “And so on through school and uni, where the only writing I did was for classes. That means that here, at 24, I’m not receiving rejection letters from publishers for my novel. Instead, I’m coaching a youth football team, trying to relive my glory days.”

“So everything in your life after that first event changed as a result,” Harry guessed.

“Yes, in this case. It’s basically just perspective taking,” Louis admitted. “Just a game. Do you want to try one?”

“Um,” Harry trailed off uncertainly, “not right now. I’m not sure if it would make me feel better or worse.”

Louis laughed quietly. “I understand.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments, staring out at the stars above the bay. Louis guessed they had cycled through the whole Norah Jones album. The next song came on, and something sparked in Louis’ memory. Harry was the first to speak.

“Want to see the proper way to listen to this song?”

Louis smiled. “Sure.”

Harry wordlessly sank back onto his back on the quilt and stared up at the sky. “Like this.”

A woman was singing now, but Louis couldn’t place the song in his mind yet. He shrugged and followed Harry’s lead by reclining on the blanket. Louis stared up at the stars above their heads, then turned to study Harry’s profile. From Harry’s phone speaker, the artist continued to sing.

_In that small café_

_The park across the way_

_The children’s carousel_

_The chestnut trees, the wishing well_

_I’ll be seeing you_

“This reminds me of something,” Louis said softly. “But I don’t know what.”

Harry smiled up at the sky, then turned his face towards Louis. “Want to guess?”

“Hmm,” Louis mused. “Movie?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Happy or sad?”

“Both,” Harry said.

Louis sighed in frustration. “Is it _An Affair to Remember?”_

“Ooh, good guess,” Harry replied. “But no.”

“ _Titanic?”_ Louis suggested.

“Nope.”

“Jesus. Make it difficult then,” Louis grumbled. “My mind is going blank.”

“Clue?” Harry asked.

“Yes, please” Louis conceded.

“Nighttime, laying on the road under a streetlight. Soul mates.”

“Hang on,” Louis said, something finally registering in his mind, “are we talking about _The Notebook_ right now?”

“Bingo,” Harry said, clapping slowly. “Good job.”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis groaned as he closed his eyes. “I see it clearly now: you’re not just a nerd. You’re also a huge sap, aren’t you?”

Harry laughed. “Guilty.”

“ _The Notebook,_ Harry? Really?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen it, Lou. I know you have.”

Louis stared accusingly at Harry. “You bring this up while we’re in the depths of despair? The nerve.”

Harry frowned slightly. “Hey, it turns out to be a happy ending. Noah and Allie have a beautiful love story. Then they die.”

Louis sighed loudly. “If this is meant to cheer me up, I should warn you it’s not working.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Yes, it is. You forgot about your problems for a few minutes. And you’re not sitting somewhere alone. You’ve got me.”

Louis felt his expression softened as he looked at Harry. “Yeah. I’ve got you,” he murmured. Then Louis stared back up at the night sky. When Harry wordlessly linked their pinky fingers together, all Louis could do was smile. Harry’s voice echoed in his head over and over, _you’ve got me,_ and for the first time that day, Louis felt he was exactly where he needed to be.


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

“We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.”

~Kurt Vonnegut

Louis intended to spend most of the next morning working on his manuscript. Liam had replied to his email with enthusiasm, urging Louis to keep writing, which took a weight off Louis’ shoulders. Yet when he sat down in front of his laptop that morning, Louis couldn’t focus. He ended up making coffee and doodling on his spiral notebook instead. Louis’ thoughts were all over the place. His manuscript was on the back burner, and Louis had already mapped out the first meeting between Miles and the still-unnamed piano player. In the forefront of Louis’ mind was the poem Zayn had shared with him before the trip.

_Where we both come from_

_Never mattered half as much_

_As where we’re heading._

While Louis didn’t enjoy writing poetry, reading it sometimes inspired him to dig deeper into his characters and their emotions. As his story developed, Louis had come to realize that the happy-go-lucky Miles had actually survived deep trauma and loss. Miles was meeting the pianist at a time in his life when the past didn’t have such a grip on him anymore. He was open-hearted and optimistic while still being realistic.

For some reason, that led Louis to think about Harry.

Louis didn’t know much about Harry’s life up till now. From their conversations so far, Louis inferred that Harry felt lost sometimes, just like Louis did. Harry was kind and down-to-earth though. He didn’t appear to dwell on the past the way Louis did. It occurred to Louis then that he hadn’t bothered to ask Harry about his future goals. Yet he wanted to know.

Louis slouched back in his chair in frustration. He would never finish his novel in time if he didn’t devote enough time to it. Louis poured another cup of coffee in the kitchen and returned to his chair at the dining table. He vowed to stay there until he had finished his current chapter. Louis closed his notebook full of doodles and turned resolutely to his computer screen.

An hour and a half and two cups of coffee later, Louis’ eyes were glazing over. He had a crick in his neck and a headache, but the marathon writing had paid off. That’s what Louis liked to compare it to: a marathon. He had drafted the first scene when Miles and the pianist—who Louis had finally named Aaron—meet after Aaron’s gig at the bar. Then Louis had written a scene of Miles on a typical day. He had reached 50 pages total. He was contemplating taking a short nap when his phone buzzed with a new message.

_Zayn: You’re doing that reclusive writing thing again, aren’t you?_

_Louis: I have been, but I could use a break._

_Zayn: Lunch?_

_Louis: Perfect. Meet you in five._

_Zayn: :)_

Louis saved his work on the computer, carried his coffee cup to the sink, and stretched his tired muscles. He brushed his teeth and changed into a clean white vest. Louis grabbed his phone on the way out the door and finally gave himself permission to text Harry.

_Louis: Good morning! Or is it afternoon? Lol_

Louis met Zayn between their villas and waited for Harry’s reply. Zayn gave Louis a once-over, and mercifully didn’t comment on his tousled hair and exhausted expression. Instead, Zayn just opened his arms for a hug.

“Good job, Lou,” Zayn murmured as he gave Louis a squeeze.

“How do you know I did good?” Louis asked with a sleepy slur.

Zayn laughed and then pulled Louis out to arms’ length to look at him. “Lou. We both know you wouldn’t have left your computer if you hadn’t made any progress.”

Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn. “Ok, yeah. I made some progress, I guess.”

Zayn smiled. “I knew you would. Now, let’s grab lunch.”

Together, they walked towards the restaurant and bar facing the bay. Louis figured they must be regulars by that point. Zayn didn’t press Louis about his writing; instead, he changed the subject.

“Hey, I was thinking we could try out one of the other restaurants tonight. Maybe not as fancy as the Palms, if that’s ok.”

“Sure, yeah,” Louis replied. “I’m in.”

Zayn gestured for Louis to claim a table at the beach bar, and then he approached the bar to order lunch. Louis sank into a chair at a table facing the beach. He felt he had earned a moment of relaxation after his morning writing. Zayn returned with two glasses of Coke and sat down across from Louis. Louis took a sip of his drink and felt a much-needed rush of caffeine and sugar hit his palate. He sighed happily and looked out across the water.

“Can we stay forever, Z?” Louis asked.

Zayn laughed and shrugged. “How are we going to make a living?”

“Maybe Harry will hire us as staff members,” Louis quipped. “We can wear those cute polos and fancy watches.”

“Mhm.”

“You know the watches?” Louis asked, struggling to form words. “The ones with the…thing,” he added, tapping his wrist like he’d seen Harry and Niall do.

“Smart watch?” Zayn supplied with a wry smile.

“Yes. Those.”

“Sure. Now drink your Coke, Lou. You’re getting a bit loopy,” Zayn suggested.

Louis shrugged and gulped down some Coke, then turned back to stare at the gentle waves on the beach. He and Zayn didn’t talk much for a few minutes, just enjoying the warm breeze and cold drinks. Zayn broke the silence and startled Louis out of a vague thought about walking on the beach.

“So you think the polos are cute?” Zayn asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said the polos the staff wears are cute.”

“Yeah. So?” Louis frowned.

“Harry is a staff member,” Zayn said with a sly smile. “Do you think his is cute, too?”

Louis narrowed his eyes at Zayn. “I guess…sure. He wears it well.”

Zayn choked on a sip of Coke and began laughing. “Does he, now?”

Louis felt his cheeks flushing and rolled his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, Z.”

Zayn bit back another laugh. “Mate, it’s a polo shirt. If you saw a guy back home wearing one, you wouldn’t blink twice.”

“So?” Louis huffed, crossing his arms.

“So,” Zayn replied, “then you see Harry in a nerdy polo and love it.”

“Love is a strong word…” Louis challenged. “Forget I said anything.”

“As your best friend, I can’t do that. I will recall this conversation on my deathbed and laugh out loud,” Zayn said gleefully.

“Laugh out loud at what?” a voice cut in.

Louis cringed when he recognized Niall’s teasing tone and slowly turned to face him. Niall was grinning good-naturedly at Louis and Zayn. Louis took a fortifying sip of Coke and tried to defend himself.

“Nothing, Niall,” Louis said, even as he felt his cheeks flame bright red. “Zayn is just being immature.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” Niall replied. “Spill the beans, Lou.”

“All I was saying was,” Louis said, “was that I think the staff uniforms are nice. That’s all.”

Niall raised his eyebrows and glanced at Zayn. “Mhm. Ok, Lou. Whatever floats your boat.”

Zayn giggled for longer than was necessary, and Louis shot him a withering glare. “It’s not that funny, Zayn.”

Zayn attempted to stop laughing, and then Niall spoke again.

“I’ll pass the compliment on to Harry, though. He’s the one who picked out these nerdy polos.”

Zayn threw his head back and laughed until tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “Oh my god,” he said while gasping for breath. “This is perfect.”

Niall glanced between Zayn and Louis, then shrugged. “I came into this conversation at an odd time, didn’t I?”

Louis buried his head in his hands and groaned. “You have no idea.”

“Niall, please tell Harry how much we enjoy the polo shirts,” Zayn said, finally catching his breath.

“Niall is going to do no such thing,” Louis warned, turning to face Niall. “Are you?”

“Nope, not me. Was there anything you actually want me to tell Harry?” Niall asked with a sparkle in his eye.

“No!” Louis exclaimed. Then, in a more subdued voice, Louis added, “No thanks.”

Niall shrugged and turned to leave with a friendly wave. When he had walked out of earshot, Louis slouched down in his chair and glared at Zayn. “Great. Now Niall thinks I’ve got a clothes kink.”

Zayn schooled his expression into a more placid look. “You’re not wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?” Louis frowned.

“Harry can definitely rock a polo shirt.”

Louis squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his head face first onto the table, resolving to stay there for the rest of his life. He heard Zayn take another sip of his Coke and chuckle to himself. Despite the sound of the waves and other guests talking over lunch, Louis could clearly hear Zayn mumble under his breath, _He wears it well._

Louis would never be able to look Harry in the eye again.

After lunch, Zayn returned to his villa to write for the afternoon. Louis debated going back to write as well, but the sunshine was calling his name. When Louis checked his phone, he was surprised to see he had received a text from Harry.

_Harry: haha it’s afternoon, Lou. I’m shooting a birthday party at the pool. There’s cake if you want to come by :)_

_Louis: Say no more. I’m on my way lol_

When Louis arrived minutes later at the pool, the birthday party appeared to be winding down. A few children were swimming while adults gathered up a pile of gifts. One little girl wearing a sparkly swimsuit and a tiara was curled up on a lounge chair napping. And Harry was standing with a young couple Louis imagined were the parents, still holding his camera.

He was wearing another damned polo shirt.

This one was objectively hideous: it featured bright green palm trees on an electric blue background. Harry had paired it with a pair of white shorts and tucked the shirt in, which only made the fashion choice seem more intentional. And yet, on Harry, it somehow worked. His tanned skin was an attractive contrast to his white shorts. His dark hair was blowing in the gentle breeze like a curly halo. He held his camera in a graceful, practiced motion. Overall, Zayn was right: if Louis had seen Harry on the streets of London dressed like this, looking like a bizarre dad tourist, he would have walked on by.

 _And look what I might have missed,_ Louis realized in that moment. He felt as if his axis had tilted below his feet. Louis looked at Harry standing in the sun and something just clicked. He felt a bit lightheaded, and since Harry hadn’t spotted him yet, Louis claimed a lounge chair in the shade and sat down.

Seconds or minutes later, Harry glanced around the pool and paused when he saw Louis. Harry smiled and waved, and Louis smiled back. He watched Harry shake hands with the birthday girl’s parents and then begin packing up his equipment. Louis felt oddly calm when Harry approached him a few moments later carrying two slices of cake. _Oh,_ Louis thought with sudden clarity, _it’s you._ Instead, Louis signed hello to Harry and waited on his lounge chair.

Harry was grinning when he sank down onto the lounge chair next to Louis and offered him a piece of cake. Up close, Louis could see sweat dotting Harry’s hairline from standing in the sun taking photos. His white shorts had a few mystery smudges on them as well. But Louis watched Harry’s smile grow as he settled back in the lounge chair and take a bite of hard-earned cake.

“Cheers,” Harry said. “It’s confetti cake, my favorite.”

“Cheers,” Louis replied with a smile. “I showed up just in time.”

Harry laughed and nodded. “Oh, believe me, the drama was long past when you got here. You’re lucky.”

“I guess I am,” Louis answered with a private smile, feeling the full weight of Harry’s words. “Do you get a break now?”

“Kind of,” Harry said. “I should really go upload those photos to my computer, but it can wait a few minutes. How’s your day going?”

Louis took a generous bite of cake and mulled over his answer. “Pretty good; I have a solid start to the novel and some decent characterization. I needed a break, too.”

Harry speared the final bite of his cake, and then his watch beeped. “Oh god,” he sighed, resting his head back on the lounge chair. “Give me five more minutes.”

Louis hummed sympathetically and finished his own cake. “Back to work now?”

“Don’t make me go, Lou,” Harry said. “Can I hide here with you?”

“Sure,” Louis shrugged. “Keep bringing me baked goods and you can stay all day.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks. Good to know.”

Louis opened his mouth to reply when Harry’s watch beeped again. Then his phone buzzed. Harry let out a long sigh and slowly sat up.

“That’s my cue, I guess,” Harry said morosely.

“Go on, go save the world,” Louis teased with a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Harry perked up a bit and smiled. “Ok. I’d like that. Have a great day, Lou.”

This time, Louis didn’t try to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname. He just smiled at Harry and waved him off. “You too, Harry,” he called as Harry walked towards the gate of the pool. Harry turned and smiled brightly in farewell, and then he was gone.

Louis sighed and carried their cake plates to a trash can near the gate. When he returned to his chair, he discovered someone had claimed Harry’s spot. Maia smiled at Louis and signed hello, which Louis mimicked as best he could. Then he sat down beside her.

“Hey, Maia,” Louis said aloud. He glanced over to find Maia facing him on her chair, her chin propped on her hands expectantly.

“Did you see Harry?” he asked, pointing in the direction Harry had just exited. Maia just smiled and blinked back at him.

Louis felt awful that he hadn’t prepared more signs in order to talk with Maia. He was currently limited to “hello.” He turned on his own chair to face Maia better.

“Harry looks ridiculous today,” Louis commented as he shook his head. Maia frowned slightly, just watching Louis. He imagined she must be pretty bored to just sit there beside him on a beautiful day.

“Not that I’m like, checking him out,” Louis hurried to say. “It’s not like that.”

Maia leveled him with a look that could almost be a glare.

“Not saying that I don’t like Harry. I do,” Louis said. “I like him. He’s great, you know?” Louis glanced at Maia, whose stare screamed boredom. “I know you know that; sorry.” Maia blinked slowly at him.

“Can you keep a secret?” Louis continued, meeting Maia’s eyes. “I haven’t told Zayn this yet. He’ll probably laugh. You might laugh, too. I just…I really like Harry.”

Louis saw Maia eyeing the birthday cake that was left on the gift table. Then he continued with a shrug.

“I like that he’s kind, you know? I like his personality. He’s a nerd, no question. But I guess I am, too. He’s really handsome,” Louis sighed, staring off into the distance. The pool was deserted now save for Louis and Maia, so Louis pressed on.

“He cheers me up when I’m feeling sad. He makes me laugh. I want to hold his hand for real,” Louis confessed. “Am I being silly, do you think?”

Maia met Louis’ eyes and smiled placidly.

“Yeah, I guess it’s silly. But thanks for putting up with me while I mope,” Louis concluded. He looked at Maia, then gestured towards the table with the cake. “Would you like a piece of cake?” he asked. Maia followed Louis’ line of sight and her eyes widened with excitement.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Louis laughed. He stood and walked with Maia towards the table. He cut her a generous slice of cake and a fork, and Maia beamed at him. Before he could say goodbye, Maia was jogging towards the gate and out to freedom. Louis laughed and watched her until she was out of sight. Then Louis walked out the gate and traced his way back to his villa. It was time to get back to work.

A text startled Louis out of his writing zone two hours later, when he was halfway into a scene of Miles and Aaron’s first date. Louis had eye strain from staring at his screen. He squinted at the phone to see a message from the Tomlinson family group text.

_Lottie: Hello? Anyone there?_

_Phoebes: I’m here!_

_Lottie: Yes, I see you…sitting right across from me. But where’s Lou?_

Louis cracked a smile and replied.

_Louis: I’m here, Lots. You guys having fun without me?_

_Dazey: No. I’m grounded._

_Louis: Why are you grounded? Lol_

_Dazey: Apparently it’s considered inappropriate to talk back to a teacher. Free speech 2K19!_

Louis laughed and shook his head fondly.

_Louis: Ok, besides that. Is everyone doing ok?_

_Phoebes: We’re fine but we miss you, Lou._

_Dazey: Doris wants to know if you’re doing your homework lol_

_Louis: I am! Are you guys doing your homework as well?_

_Phoebes: …_

_Dazey: …_

_Lottie: Believe me, Lou. They’ve been working on it. We do miss you though!_

_Louis: Miss you too._

_Lottie: Can we FaceTime you tomorrow night?_

_Louis: Sure! Wait—is it late there?_

_Phoebes: lol yes. We’re about to watch a movie._

_Dazey: I picked it!_

_Louis: well, have fun with that! Hang on, I’m getting another text._

_Phoebes: Ooh, who is it from?_

_Lottie: Is it from Harry?_

_Dazey: Who’s Harry, Lou?_

_Louis: My new friend._

_Lottie: OMG are you dating?_

_Louis: no_

_Louis: wait a minute, Lots. You grounded Daisy and didn’t take her phone?_

_Lottie: Just a sec._

_Phoebes: lol Lottie took her phone away._

_Lottie: Ok, I’m back._

_Louis: lol I really miss you guys. Tell Daisy as well. And Doris and Ernie._

_Lottie: We miss you too! Now go answer your text from Harry already._

_Louis: How do you know it’s him?_

_Lottie: I know these things. Goodnight! Love you!_

_Louis: Love you too. Goodnight!_

Louis closed out of the group text and opened Harry’s message, which was a string of emojis: a cake, a sun, and a face with the mouth zipped close. Louis raised his eyebrows, feeling confused and a bit underwhelmed. After a moment, he sent a reply: three question marks. Louis shrugged, then set his phone down and returned to his manuscript. Harry didn’t respond for several minutes, so Louis got back to work. According to the clock, it was nearing 6 p.m. Louis set an alarm to ring in half an hour, then began revising what he had written that day. When the alarm sounded, Louis felt more confident about his work and was ready for a shower. He was excited to try out a new restaurant with Zayn. Louis showered quickly, put on a clean top and jeans, and walked out the door, Harry’s cryptic message all but forgotten.

Callalou Beach Bar and Grill beckoned to Louis and Zayn as they approached it a few minutes later. Zayn had the presence of mind to call ahead with a reservation, so when he gave the hostess their names, she escorted them to a table near the water. Menus awaited them on their table. Louis and Zayn thanked the hostess and sat down to scan the menu. When their waiter arrived a moment later to take their drink orders, the two asked for his recommendations.

“Well,” the waiter said with a welcoming smile, “our house red goes well with most entrees. And for starters, you can’t go wrong with the chef’s famous Caesar salad with shrimp.”

“That sounds amazing,” Zayn said. “What do you think, Lou?”

“I’d love to try the red,” Louis replied. “And that salad sounds amazing as well. Want to try it?”

Zayn agreed, and their waiter left them with a courteous smile to put the orders in. A cool breeze was blowing in from the bay, and strands of white lights hanging overhead swayed a little with the wind. Louis relaxed in his chair and shot Zayn a smile.

“So this has been a nice day,” Louis said.

Zayn flashed him a smile. “Yeah? I’m really glad. You’ve been working hard, Lou.”

“Thanks,” Louis said as he absently tapped his fingertips on his phone on the table. Harry still hadn’t replied. “I think I’m getting deeper into the characters now. It’s been good.”

Zayn glanced at Louis’ phone. “Expecting to hear from someone?”

Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn and smiled. “No. I don’t know.”

“Harry doing ok?” Zayn guessed.

“Don’t know,” Louis attempted to say in a blasé fashion. “Haven’t heard from him in a while.”

“Want me to text Niall and see what’s going on?” Zayn offered, pulling out his phone.

“Oh, no—that’s ok. Hey,” Louis said with a start. “You have Niall’s number?”

Zayn met Louis’ eyes and he shrugged. “Of course. He’s my tequila connection.”

“Zayn.”

“Louis?”

“Tell me something,” Louis said with a smile as he leaned closer across the table. “What are Niall’s future plans?”

Zayn frowned. “I don’t see why that matters. He just wants to go back to school to be a nurse.”

Louis’ smile widened. “He’s a good looking guy, isn’t he?”

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “I guess? What are you getting at?”

Louis leaned back in his chair as their waiter arrived with a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. He thanked the waiter, then grinned at Zayn.

“Niall wears the nerdy polo shirts as well,” Louis said with an innocent smile.

“Louis.”

“One might say he even…wears it well,” Louis said smugly.

“Touche,” Zayn sighed. “But it’s not like that.”

“No?”

“Mostly we just talk about you and Harry,” Zayn said with a mischievous smile.

“Well, there’s apparently nothing to talk about,” Louis replied as he gestured to his phone.

Zayn smiled fondly. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“How’s the wine?” Zayn asked, kindly changing the subject.

Louis took a sip and nodded. “Good. Very good.”

Zayn blinked at Louis over his wine glass as he tasted the wine. “Bit strong, isn’t it?”

“Three glasses of this and then I can really write,” Louis quipped.

“Famous last words,” Zayn laughed. “But go for it.”

Louis began to reply when his phone suddenly signaled a new text. He knew in his gut that it was Harry without even looking. His fingers itched to open it, but he resisted.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Zayn said with mirth sparkling in his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Louis shook his head and put his phone down petulantly. “Nope. It can wait.”

“That’s fine, Lou. It’ll be there after dinner.”

“Exactly,” Louis said as he took a dainty sip of wine.

A few moments elapsed in which Zayn drank his wine with that infuriating gleeful expression and Louis had to literally sit on his hand so he wouldn’t touch his phone. Finally, Zayn burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Lou. Answer it already. The suspense is killing me.”

Louis sighed and picked up his phone as if it was a chore. He opened his message thread with Harry and read, then reread the message. Then he chuckled, typed a quick reply, and placed his phone back on the table.

“Well?” Zayn asked eagerly.

“Well,” Louis said, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction. “Harry wants to hang out after dinner.”

Zayn whistled and patted Louis on the shoulder. “Nice, Lou.”

Louis ducked his head and smiled down at the table. “I think I like him.”

“I think you do too,” Zayn said. “What’s holding you back?”

Louis bit his lip, then took a generous gulp of wine. “I suddenly can’t remember.”

“That’s the spirit,” Zayn said as he lifted his glass in salute. “I’ll drink to that.”

Dinner at Callalou was delicious, and by the time Louis and Zayn left, they had also polished off the entire bottle of wine. While Louis texted Harry for a place to hang out, Zayn hugged him and ruffled his hair in farewell. Then Zayn returned to his villa. Alone now, Louis realized he was a bit more tipsy from the wine than he thought. When a message came in from Harry, the words seemed to float across Louis’ phone screen.

_Harry: Want to take a walk?_

_Louis: Love to. Where am I headed?_

_Harry: I can come to you. Where are you?_

_Louis: Cantaloupe_

_Harry: ?_

_Louis: Darn autocorrect. I meant Callalou. Restaurant. Lol_

_Harry: Be there in two._

Louis smiled down at his phone, vaguely aware he was swaying a little on his feet. A good walk would definitely do him some good. A minute later, Louis heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Harry rounding the corner. To Louis’ secret disappointment, Harry had changed out of his polo shirt into a soft-looking grey Henley with his white shorts. He still managed to look stylish and cozy somehow. Louis pocketed his phone and smiled as Harry came closer.

“You look nice,” was out of Louis’ mouth before he could filter his thoughts. “I mean, hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said with a smile. He gave Louis a once-over and then grinned. “You ok there, Louis?”

“Hmm? Me?” Louis asked as he leaned a bit too far to the left and had to correct his posture. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Great, thanks. You said you went to Callalou, right?” Harry replied.

“Yep,” Louis said with a smile.

“You drank the house wine, didn’t you?” Harry asked with a grin.

“I sure did. Good stuff,” Louis said. “I’m feeling great, but I’m confused. Do you have a twin?”

“I…no,” Harry said with a slight frown. “Why?”

“Cause I’m seeing two of you right now,” Louis said with a giggle.

“Oh god,” Harry said, voice laced with concern. “Are you ok? Really?”

“Oh, sure. I think a nice walk will help clear my mind,” Louis said breezily.

“Can you walk?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you going to throw up? Cause if you are, I’m gonna walk you back to your villa,” Harry warned.

“I haven’t thrown up since Mariah’s Adventures of Mimi tour,” Louis scoffed.

“Really?” Harry asked drily. “What were you doing in 2006?”

Louis slowly focused on Harry’s eyes. “How’d you know that?”

Harry cracked a smile. “You’re not the only fan around here. Now, let’s walk, shall we?”

Louis agreed and walked next to Harry for a few moments in easy silence. Louis’ usual anxiety had been tempered by enough wine to make him comfortable around Harry, even after his realization by the pool earlier. His heart, however, was still guarded. Louis was prepared to take all thoughts of his crush on Harry to the grave if necessary. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Harry broke the silence.

“So I ran into Maia today,” Harry said.

“Really?” Louis asked with a bright smile. He turned his head to face Harry, and then he wobbled on his feet a bit. Maybe Harry didn’t notice.

“Mhm. She said she hung out with you by the pool for a while.”

“That’s right; she did! I almost forgot,” Louis replied. “I might have given her cake.”

Harry laughed. “Told you she’d have you wrapped around her finger soon enough.”

“Yeah, she’s got me,” Louis said with a fond smile.

“Tell me something, Lou,” Harry said, voice laced with hesitation. “How much of this are you going to remember tomorrow?”

Louis frowned at Harry. “All of it, I imagine. Well, maybe not the dinner part. I can’t remember what I ate.”

Harry quirked a smile. “Ah, ok. That’s understandable. Anyway, I had an interesting chat with Maia.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked. He briefly bumped into Harry’s shoulder. “Oops.”

“Ok, so two things. First of all, she’s chosen a sign for you.”

“Really? Wow! What is it?”

Harry demonstrated the sign by holding his fists together over his chest with his thumbs pointing upwards, and then he lowered his thumbs down to his fists. Then he lifted them back up again.

Louis watched in fascination. “What does it mean?”

“Means ‘sweetheart,’” Harry replied with an enigmatic smile.

“So…she wants to be my sweetheart?” Louis asked in confusion.

“No, Lou,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “She wants you to be mine.”

Louis’ jaw dropped as he looked into Harry’s eyes for a sign that he was joking. But Harry held his gaze with a steady expression. Before Louis could reply, Harry continued.

“The second thing to know is that Maia is learning to read lips.”

“Ok? That’s cool, right? That’s—wait a minute. She _what?!”_ Louis exclaimed with wide eyes. His heart began to race as realization dawned on him that he had spilled his guts to Maia about Harry. And now Harry knew.

“She can piece things together pretty well, as it turns out,” Harry admitted.

Louis could only blink in shock. He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, still at a loss for words.

“And that’s why I asked if you would remember this conversation tomorrow,” Harry continued. He bit his lip with uncertainty before pressing on. “Because I like you, Lou. If it wasn’t for Maia, I’d still be dragging my feet afraid to tell you that. I hope you’re not mad.”

Louis snapped out of it at Harry’s words and found his voice. “Mad? No. No, Harry. I’m not mad about anything. I’m just…I said some embarrassing things to Maia, now that I think about it.”

Harry smiled ruefully. “You should have heard what I told her after breakfast today. I think we’re in the same boat.”

Louis laughed quietly, recalling the way he had practically gushed about Harry to Maia. “You think so?”

“Louis. I told her your eyes were _mesmerizing_.”

Louis ducked his head and grinned. “That’s sweet though. I like it.”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

Louis stared at Harry’s profile for a long moment and tripped a little over his own feet. Wordlessly, Harry laced his fingers through Louis’ and squeezed his hand gently. Louis felt little tingles spread from the point where his hand met Harry’s. This time when he bumped against Harry’s shoulder, it was intentional.

“So,” Harry said a minute later, casting a sly smile at Louis’ face. “Polo shirts, huh?”

Louis cringed and closed his eyes tight. “Oh my god.”

“Hey,” Harry said kindly, “You’re the only person who’s ever liked them besides me.”

“I told Maia they were hideous,” Louis said flatly.

“Hmm. That’s not what I heard,” Harry teased. “But maybe she was mistaken.”

Louis shook his head but couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll never tell.”

Louis had lost track of where Harry was leading them. When he looked around, he was surprised to see they were approaching Louis’ villa. Louis was about to object when Harry spoke.

“I’m making the executive decision to send you to bed,” Harry said.

“Are you going to tuck me in?” Louis quipped.

“Tempting,” Harry considered. “But you’re still drunk.”

“Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” Louis asked. His pulse quickened at the thought.

“Not tonight,” Harry replied regretfully.

“Oh,” Louis said quietly as they approached his front door. “Well, that’s ok, I guess. I mean, who knows if we even have chemistry,” Louis shrugged. “We may never know.”

Harry didn’t respond at first. Instead, he slowly guided Louis around until his back hit the villa door. His eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Chemistry?” Harry asked, stepping closer and closer to Louis. “Hmm.”

Louis opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. All he could do was watch as Harry carefully propped his hands on either side of Louis’ shoulders and pressed close enough for Louis to feel his body heat. When Harry’s nose brushed Louis’, and Louis felt Harry’s warm exhale on his face, he felt all the tension in his body fade. Harry’s lips were an inch from Louis’, and the proximity seemed to drain the last of Louis’ resolve. He was tired of resisting, of taking a step back, of denying himself. What was the point, when the slightest touch from Harry left him breathless? The chemistry Louis had doubted before was now so evident, it was almost funny.

Harry’s fingers traced down from their place on the wall to skim against Louis’ neck, coming to rest against his pulse. Harry applied just enough pressure to feel his quickening pulse, his touch still gentle and relatively chaste. It hit Louis then that he wanted to feel that same hand wrapped around his throat, pressing just on this side of too tight, while Harry kissed him slowly. His eyes fluttered closed at the thought.

Louis’ eyes flew open just as Harry’s fingers tipped his chin up. Meeting Harry’s eyes finally, Louis blinked slowly, dazed. His fingers twitched, and Louis realized his hands were braced on Harry’s chest, right over the steady thump of his heart. When had that happened?

Harry’s lips brushed Louis’ ear. “Does this answer your question, Lou?” he murmured.

Louis let his head rest back against the wall, exposing his throat in invitation. He wanted to feel Harry’s lips there so badly that he could almost beg.

“I,” Louis mumbled in response, “I, um. Yes,” Louis replied breathily.

Louis felt rather than saw Harry’s lips curve into a smile against the skin on his neck. He pulled back a fraction to look at Louis’ face. His smile grew, and then he replied.

“Well then,” Harry whispered as he reached a hand into Louis’ back pocket to retrieve his key card. “How does that song go? ‘When you’re ready, come and get it?”

Louis didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled abruptly in anticipation. He could only nod for Harry to continue.

“Good,” Harry said, extracting the key from Louis’ pocket. “Then let’s say, ‘when you’re sober, come and get it.’”

Harry smiled a private smile and pressed Louis’ key against the card reader. Louis’ front door unlocked with a quiet click. Then Harry stepped back enough for Louis to walk to his door.

“You, um,” Louis said dazedly, “might want to erase the video footage.” Louis pointed up towards the direction of the security camera.

Harry’s smile widened and he turned to glance at the camera. Then he looked back at Louis.

“I’ll do that,” Harry promised. “Sweet dreams, Lou.”

Louis stepped back through his doorway and smiled sleepily. “Sweet dreams, Harry.” Louis slowly closed his door and began preparing for bed in his dark bedroom. He could still feel the warmth of Harry’s touch as he climbed into bed.

Waking up alone the next morning might have felt disappointing for Louis in different circumstances. As hazy memories came into focus in his mind, Louis was touched by Harry’s behavior; in addition to being the perfect gentleman, Harry had also reassured Louis that his “no” was actually a “not yet.” Louis smiled sleepily at the image which was now forever burned in his mind: Harry crowding him against a wall to test their chemistry. Ha. God, Louis had underestimated his attraction to Harry. Lesson learned.

The only trouble now was, Louis didn’t know how Harry had felt when he woke that morning. Had he changed his mind about Louis? Louis tried to shake off his anxiety by focusing on the present. He would meet up with Harry somehow and gauge his feelings. That was all he could do. When Louis reached for his phone to check the time, he saw a few missed messages.

_Zayn: Did you get back to your room ok last night?_

_Zayn: Are you even in your room? ;)_

_Zayn: Text me or I’m calling your sister._

Louis typed out a quick _I’m safe and sound and alone. Tell you at breakfast._

Zayn’s response came a moment later.

_Zayn: It’s 10 am, mate. We missed breakfast._

_Louis: Now what do we do?_

While he awaited Zayn’s response, Louis checked the time. It was indeed past 10 a.m. Louis had slept for nine glorious hours apparently. He spared a thought for Harry, who likely had been awake since six.

 _Niall says we can get mimosas and eat leftover pastries from breakfast,_ Zayn replied.

 _Perfect,_ Louis texted back.

Louis sat up slowly and realized he only had a mild headache from the night before. He stood up, intending to start his morning routine, and then a new text came in. To Louis’ surprise, it wasn’t from Zayn.

_Harry: morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?_

Louis grinned. _Good morning,_ he typed in reply. _I’m good, thank you! How are you?_

_Harry: Pretty good. Someone kept me up late last night though._

_Louis: Bummer lol_

_Harry: Nah, I had fun. Turns out he’s kind of awesome. Irresistible too._

_Louis: Will that make up for your lack of sleep?_

_Harry: We’ll see. Heard you missed breakfast._

_Louis: Yes. I’m having pastries with Zayn though. Might sip a mimosa…very carefully haha_

_Harry: Want to come by the kitchen after? I’m making spaghetti._

_Louis: I’ll be there :)_

_Harry: See you then!_

Louis smiled at the message for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this cheerful before noon. Louis dressed and brushed his teeth, then left to meet Zayn for brunch.

Niall stood with his elbows propped on the bar talking to Zayn as Louis rounded the corner. Louis smiled at the sight of his friends. When he caught Niall’s eye, Niall broke into a wide smile. He clapped slowly in salute, and Zayn turned to nod in greeting.

“Morning, Lou,” Niall called. “Pull up a chair.”

“Hey, Niall. Good morning,” Louis said. He sat down next to Zayn on a stool.

“Heard you guys painted the town last night,” Niall said as he collected items to presumably make mimosas.

Louis elbowed Zayn. “Why did we drink all that wine again?”

Zayn grinned. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Oh, it was,” Louis assured him. “We had a good time.”

“Good, good,” Niall replied. He poured orange juice into two champagne flutes, then added in a measure of chilled champagne. When he handed Louis the mimosa, Niall’s eyes shone with mischief.

“By the way, mate—what’d you do to Harry?” Niall asked.

Louis raised his eyebrows in alarm. “I…don’t know. Is he ok?”

“Define ok,” Niall joked. “When he hugged me this morning, he was singing some godawful pop song. I could’ve sworn it was Mariah Carey. Something about ‘belonging together.’”

“’We Belong Together,’” Louis answered with a smile. “Solid choice.”

“Well, whatever it was, he seemed pretty happy,” Niall shrugged. “About time, I say. I mean,” Niall hurried to say, “he’s a generally happy guy. It’s not that. It’s just nice to see him with a spring in his step. So whatever you did, thank you.”

Louis nodded shyly. “We just talked, really.”

“Hmm,” Niall said, winking at Zayn before turning back to Louis. “Considering you look zen right now yourself, I’d say keep talking.”

“Sure, will do,” Louis said. “Now, did someone mention pastries?”

Halfway on his walk to the kitchen after brunch, Louis realized he was once again facing Harry after drinking. The mimosa Niall had made him had nothing on that big bottle of wine, though. Louis relaxed a bit and kept walking.

He half expected to walk in to find Harry dancing and singing next to Maia again, but when he pushed the kitchen door open, Louis found Harry by himself. Harry was standing at the stainless steel countertop pondering a series of pots and utensils, his back to Louis. Today, the music playing from his stereo sounded like early 2000s Maroon 5. Louis knocked twice on the doorframe to get Harry’s attention.

Harry turned around with a polite smile already on his face. When he recognized Louis, Harry’s expression softened to the private smile Louis had glimpsed last night.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry said. “Come on in.”

Louis echoed Harry’s hello and walked into the kitchen. He approached Harry as if he was being pulled by a magnet, and maybe that wasn’t far from the truth. Harry stood before him with his hands braced on his narrow hips and a warm smile on his face. When Louis came to a halt a foot from Harry, his skin tingled from the memory of Harry’s touch. He was effortlessly handsome to Louis. But that wasn’t the worst part.

Harry was wearing a polo shirt.

This one featured blue and green vertical stripes, and if Louis saw the top on anyone else, it would make his head hurt. But Harry wasn’t anyone else.

“Hi,” Louis said again. “How are you?”

Harry reached out and hooked his finger through Louis’ belt loop, drawing him an inch closer. “I’m feeling very nice today. How are you?”

Louis hesitantly traced his fingers over Harry’s forearm, just feeling. “Very nice, thanks,” he answered.

“Good,” Harry murmured as he stared into Louis’ eyes. “Maia ditched us, so it’s just you and me today. Hope that’s ok.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Louis said. “What’s she up to now?”

“Spa day with her mum, Raeni,” Harry said with a wry smile.

“Cool. So what’s the plan?”

“Well…how do you feel about making pasta?” Harry asked.

“From a box? Piece of cake,” Louis quipped.

“Nope. From scratch.”

Louis’ jaw dropped as he realized how unprepared he was for this task. Harry grinned at him.

“I’ll get you an apron. Let’s do this. Oh, and also,” Harry added, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek, “you look really nice today.”

Louis sucked in a breath of surprise as tingles spread across the point of contact. He touched his cheek dazedly. When he finally had a coherent thought, Louis patted Harry on the back.

“I suddenly regret every bad thing I said about your polo shirts.”

“I bet. Now, let’s get started,” Harry said with a wink. He grabbed a bowl from the countertop and carefully removed the small towel covering it. Then Harry placed it on the counter in front of Louis.

“Pasta dough. I hope you don’t mind I already did this step,” Harry said.

“Good choice, Harry,” Louis admitted. “That would take me all day.”

Harry bumped his shoulder against Louis’. “Is it ok we’re doing fettucine instead of spaghetti?”

“Sure. I like both,” Louis said. “Lead the way.”

“Ok. Let’s make some pasta.”

Harry guided Louis through the process of rolling out the fresh dough and cutting the dough into the desired pasta shape. Louis felt a bit overwhelmed holding a knife over the smooth dough with no clue how to cut it. Harry was standing close enough to patiently explain each step to Louis, and now he saw Louis was hesitating.

“Lou? You ok?” Harry asked.

“Um, sure. One question though: what happens when I cut these noodle shapes wrong and your beautiful pasta looks terrible?” Louis asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“Let’s see,” Harry said, stepping close enough to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder. “Show me,” he murmured.

Louis huffed out an anxious breath. His tense muscles relaxed a fraction as Harry’s body heat reached him. Louis pressed the knife into the pasta dough, but then froze in indecision.

“Um,” Louis laughed nervously. “Help, please.”

Harry pressed a reassuring hand between Louis’ shoulder blades. Then he curved his free hand around Louis’ on the handle of the knife. With his chin hooked over Louis’ shoulder, Harry’s warm breath tickled Louis’ neck when he spoke.

“Let’s do one together, and then you try.”

Louis nodded in agreement and watched as Harry guided his hand to cut the pasta. Together, they made a smooth, even cut through the dough. Louis smiled in relief.

“Not too bad, right?” Harry asked.

“No,” Louis replied. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” Harry confirmed, releasing his hold on Louis’ hand.

Louis took a moment to relax back against Harry, and then he straightened back up. He pressed the knife into the dough parallel to the cut he and Harry had just made. As he made a slice through the dough, a memory struck Louis.

“Remember that game ‘Operation?’” Louis asked Harry.

“Mmm, sure,” Harry answered. “It was fun.”

“I feel like at any moment, I’m going to make a wrong cut and a buzzer is going to sound.”

Harry laughed quietly. “I mean, that was brain surgery, Lou. This is a pasta noodle.”

Louis elbowed Harry in the side and rolled his eyes. “Are we going to cut literally every single noodle we want to eat?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Harry said.

“This is going to take days at this rate.”

“Maybe you just need some motivation,” Harry mused. “I’ll let you pick the music.”

“Do you have more Maroon 5?” Louis asked, never taking his eyes from the cut he was making in the dough.

“Yep.”

“Will you play ‘Sunday Morning?’”

“Just a sec,” Harry said. He paused before stepping away from Louis, and then he pressed a kiss to the top of Louis’ head.

Louis grinned but resolved to keep cutting more pasta. As he set a fresh noodle aside and began to cut another one, Harry made a buzzing sound reminiscent of the game ‘Operation.’ Louis shot Harry a withering look.

“Very funny,” he said.

Harry grinned unrepentantly. “It was, huh?”

“Funny like your face,” Louis said tartly.

“Funny like _your_ face.”

“Keep it up and you’re gonna be putting alfredo sauce on a huge ball of dough instead of noodles,” Louis laughed.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just make the sauce. You do your thing,” Harry conceded.

When Harry turned on the song Louis requested and began to hum along, Louis cracked a smile. He didn’t know if this constituted a first date or not, but either way, Louis was having fun.

“How much pasta is too much pasta?” Harry asked while he and Louis ate.

Louis watched Harry twirl noodles around his fork with ease and considered the question. “No such thing,” Louis said confidently. “The limit does not exist.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled at the _Mean Girls_ reference. “Works for me. These noodles turned out great, by the way.”

Louis smiled at Harry. “Mostly thanks to your help. I did ok, though, didn’t I?”

“Better than ok,” Harry praised. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I call teamwork,” Louis said as he raised his water glass in salute.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Harry replied with a wink.

“You’ve been saving that one for a while, haven’t you?” Louis guessed.

“Days,” Harry admitted. “Waiting for just the right moment.”

“Hey,” Louis said, changing the subject. “How well do you know Byron and Jo Shields?”

Harry tilted his head in consideration. “I’ve known them for as long as I’ve been here,” he said. “Really sweet couple. Why do you ask?”

Louis bit his lip. “It’s just something Jo was saying at dinner the other night. It’s their big 50th anniversary, and they’re here alone.”

“Ok,” Harry replied, “that’s true. It’s kind of sad.”

“It is!” Louis said. “You know, at dinner Jo told us that she and Byron actually reconnected with the couple who stood up with them at their wedding years ago, right here at the resort.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Harry said. “So they’ve been friends all this time then?”

“Kind of,” Louis said. “It’s a little complicated. But I can’t shake the idea that it would mean a lot to the Shields to have someone like that here for their anniversary.”

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head,” Harry said. “But how are you going to pull it off?”

“I don’t know,” Louis admitted. “It’s such short notice. Not to mention the fact that these friends might not still be living. I don’t know; it’s just a thought.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered, “what are you going to do then?”

Louis sighed. “I might have to sleep on it.”

“Well, in the meantime, want to eat more fettucine?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes. Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

“Race you to the pot over there,” Harry challenged. “On three.”

Louis’ eyes widened as he scrambled to the edge of his chair.

“One…two…” Harry counted with a gleam in his eye. Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat and dashed towards the pot on the countertop. “Three!” Harry giggled as he reached for the spoon.

“Hey!” Louis exclaimed as he chased Harry across the room. “No fair!”

“Oh, did I cheat?” Harry asked innocently as he ladled a heap of fettucine on his plate. “Oops.”

“I’ll show you ‘oops,’” Louis threatened, trying to grab the spoon from Harry. But Harry held the spoon out of Louis’ reach with a grin. He giggled as Louis jumped to try to reach it. Finally, Harry calmly handed the spoon to Louis with a placid smile.

“Looking for this?” Harry asked.

“Bastard,” Louis grumbled as he took the spoon from Harry.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“We’ll see who’s cute when I get you back for that,” Louis warned.

“I guess we will,” Harry said as he took a step closer to Louis. “Now hold still; you’ve got something on your mouth.”

Louis frowned and moved to wipe his mouth. But Harry pressed a finger to Louis’ bottom lip before Louis could reach it.

“Hang on,” Harry murmured, crowding in closer to Louis. “It’s right… _here_ ,” he said. Harry leaned in the final inch and pressed a soft kiss to Louis’ lips. Louis startled, then slowly relaxed into the touch. When Harry pulled back a moment later, Louis instinctively reached for him. He traced his fingertips down Harry’s arm towards his hand and linked their fingers together.

Harry smiled and skimmed his lips across Louis’ face to his cheekbone. “And here,” he whispered. Harry’s mouth dropped a lingering kiss to Louis’ cheek. “And here,” Harry continued, giving the tip of Louis’ nose the gentlest kiss.

Louis’ pulse raced, but his motions slowed as he tipped his chin up and captured Harry’s lips for another kiss. He felt like he was moving through water, oddly, slow but peaceful. Harry’s mouth was warm and tender on Louis’. Tiny sparks lit up Louis’ veins with each touch.

Harry dragged his fingers through Louis’ hair with the lightest hint of pressure, and Louis fairly melted into the touch.

“Yeah?” Harry mumbled against Louis’ mouth in response. “Good?”

Louis nodded. His voice sounded slurred to his own ears as he replied, “Mmm. I like the hair.” He quelled the impulse to feel embarrassed when Harry’s fingertips traced Louis’ scalp with a bit more pressure. Louis sighed and let his head loll to the side in invitation.

Harry lowered his hand to cup Louis’ jaw and took advantage of the new angle. He kissed Louis again, nudging Louis’ lips open with his tongue. Louis’ eyes slid shut. He yielded to Harry’s touch and opened his mouth.

The first brush of Harry’s tongue against Louis’ was electric. Louis felt the sensation slide through his veins and down to his toes with each gentle press of Harry’s tongue. He was setting an infuriatingly slow pace, but Louis was content in the moment. Louis squeezed Harry’s hand in encouragement.

When Harry pulled back an inch with a wet pop against Louis’ lips, Louis sighed.

“When was the last time,” Harry asked softly, “that someone kissed you just to kiss you? Not as a means to an end?”

Louis’ eyes fluttered open and gazed into Harry’s. “I…don’t know,” Louis said breathlessly.

Harry smiled. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” Louis confessed.

Harry rewarded him with another kiss, deeper this time but still slow. He stroked Louis’ hair again. Harry gave the tips of Louis’ hair a tug with the barest pressure, and Louis shivered. He felt his body turn pliant at the suggestion of Harry’s touch. He didn’t know how he was still standing on his own feet.

As if reading Louis’ mind, Harry curled his arm around Louis’ lower back for support. He left kiss after tender kiss on Louis’ lips, until Louis let go of his last coherent thought and whimpered quietly. Harry’s hand trailed up and down Louis’ back in a soothing rhythm as he scaled back the intensity of his kiss.

Louis was breathing shallowly still, feeling a bit lightheaded. He opened his eyes slowly and pressed one more soft kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry opened his eyes then. His expression was a little dazed as well, and Louis smiled contentedly in response. For a moment, Harry and Louis exchanged shy smiles. Then Harry dropped one more kiss on Louis’ forehead. Louis’ smile grew, and suddenly the word _cherished_ echoed in his mind.

“Ok, Lou?” Harry asked when he leaned his forehead against Louis’.

“Very ok,” Louis answered. He imagined they were huddled together in a bubble in that moment. “You?”

Harry smiled and put an inch of space between them. “Very ok,” he replied.

After a moment, Louis realized he and Harry were swaying side to side in their private bubble. “While I don’t concede you point that Captain America is the superior Avenger to Iron Man,” Louis said with a lopsided smile, “I can see that they’re better together than apart.”

Harry’s answering smile was bright. “I think you’re onto something good, Lou.”

Louis nodded and lifted his and Harry’s linked hands to leave a kiss on Harry’s knuckles. “We’re onto something good,” he replied emphasizing the _we’re._ “But Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“If I’m ‘sweetheart,’ what does Maia call you?”

Harry grinned and slowly signed his nickname. “It’s the signs for ‘happy’ and ‘flower.’”

Louis thought back to the emoji attached to Harry’s name on his phone, a sunflower. “Yeah,” Louis nodded, “I can see that.”

Louis felt that he floated rather than walked back towards his villa after lunch with Harry. Even the thought of Harry’s kisses made Louis’ heart race. He walked into his villa and made a beeline for his laptop. Suddenly, the thought of another writing marathon didn’t seem so tedious. Louis opened his manuscript and appraised it with fresh eyes. He began chipping away at revisions right then, and he’d never felt so energized doing it.

By the time Zayn texted him, Louis was engrossed in a new chapter of his story. Subconsciously, he wondered if the passion he had for his characters had been influenced by his time with Harry earlier. But Louis didn’t question it; things were finally running smoothly. Louis read Zayn’s message with amusement.

_Zayn: Well? How’d it go?_

_Louis: ;)_

_Zayn: I’m coming over._

Louis saved his work on the laptop and then made his way to the door. When Zayn knocked, Louis swung the door open with a wide smile.

“Oh my god,” Zayn said in wonder.

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time. Tell me everything.”

Louis shook his head fondly and led Zayn into the kitchen in his villa. When Louis stopped walking and leaned his hip against the counter, he made eye contact with Zayn.

“He showed me how to make pasta,” Louis said as a beginning.

“Good,” Zayn nodded encouragingly. “Pasta, good. Then what?”

“I mean…” Louis trailed off with a shy smile, “we kissed.”

Zayn’s expression lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “I knew it. Yes!”

“Right. And how did you know?” Louis asked as he crossed his arms skeptically.

“I just know. I’m your best friend,” Zayn reminded Louis. “Now spill.”

“He was teasing me for something silly and then he just…kissed me,” Louis recalled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, ducking his head. “It was, um. Nice.”

“Louis!” Zayn exclaimed. “Do you need to borrow my thesaurus? It was just nice?”

Louis met Zayn’s eyes and grinned. “Kind of amazing. Yeah. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it.”

“That’s so great, Lou,” Zayn replied.

“He’s pretty great, Z,” Louis confessed. “I like him.”

“I’m sure the feeling’s mutual,” Zayn said.

“You think so?” Louis asked.

“Lou, of course. Who else walks around singing Mariah with heart eyes? _Before_ you even kissed?”

Louis laughed. “So you think…”

“Yes. He likes you,” Zayn said with a fond smile. “Now come here.”

Zayn opened his arms for a hug, and Louis stepped into it contently. “Thanks,” Louis said into the fabric of Zayn’s vest. Zayn hugged him tightly, then patted him on the back.

“Happy for you, Lou.”

Louis stepped back and met Zayn’s eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

Zayn winked and then gestured towards Louis’ laptop on the dining table. “Alright, now back to work. Let me know when you want to grab dinner.”

Louis agreed, and then he walked Zayn back to the door. “And now I’ll attempt to write the rest of this novel in a matter of days. Wish me luck.”

“Lou, you don’t need luck,” Zayn said as he patted Louis’ shoulder in farewell. “Don’t be afraid to dream bigger. You got this.”

Louis blinked back the tears that came on their own volition and smiled at Zayn. Then he closed the door and wandered back to his laptop. Louis took a deep breath, then sat down and dived back into his story as bravely as he could.

A few hours later, Louis was tempted to call it a night and crawl into bed. His vision was blurry at best from staring at his screen all afternoon. But a quick glance out the window showed it wasn’t yet dark. Louis groaned and saved his progress on his manuscript. Then an idea struck him, and Louis opened Facebook.

Louis hadn’t checked Facebook since he basically stalked Harry a few days ago. But this time, Louis was on a mission. In the search bar, Louis typed a name:

Martha Wright.

To Louis’ dismay, there were dozens of Martha Wrights. He leaned closer to the laptop screen to examine their profile photos. He didn’t know what Byron and Jo’s old friend Martha looked like, but he knew she would be around their age.

Of three senior citizens in the search results, only one listed her location as London. Louis held his breath as he clicked the profile and scanned this Martha’s page. Martha’s profile picture featured a smiling woman with short, frosted curls standing in front of a beautiful sunset. She was holding hands with a child who Louis inferred was a grandchild.

Louis felt a bit sneaky cyberstalking a sweet old lady, but he knew it was the best option. If Harry were to try to track the Wright family down through the resort records, that would likely be a confidentiality breach. So with only a trace of guilt, Louis clicked Martha’s photos.

There were dozens featuring young children and Martha at holidays and family events. She had a pleasant face that always seemed to be smiling. Louis was beginning to doubt this was the correct Martha, when he eventually scrolled down and found pictures of her with an older gentleman.

Louis clicked one photo of the two posing in evening wear to enlarge it and saw a simple caption: “Jack and Martha’s 40thanniversary celebration.” _Score,_ Louis thought as he examined the photo. Aside from the very slim possibility that this could be a bizarre coincidence, Louis suspected he had found Jo and Byron’s long lost friends.

Louis paused as he contemplated his next move—extend a friend request? Send a direct message? Do nothing? Louis grabbed his phone and texted Zayn.

_What would you say if I told you I’m planning something unusual?_

Zayn typed a message right back.

_Zayn: I would say I’m not surprised. Am I going to have to bail you out of jail?_

_Louis: Probably not. Maybe. But I have an idea._

Louis outlined his plan to contact Byron and Jo’s old friends with only minimal protest from Zayn. After he had explained as clearly as he could, Zayn replied.

_Zayn: How are you going to get them to meet?_

_Louis: Leave that to me. I just need you and Niall to set up a nice surprise for Byron and Jo. Beach is my first choice. I’ll leave it to you guys as to how you get them there._

_Zayn: If this backfires, we might not only ruin their anniversary, but we’ll also get banned from visiting the island again._

_Louis: Maybe I should give Harry a heads-up._

_Zayn: Clearly, Lou_

_Louis: Ok, thanks. Got to go now lol. Things to do, people to see…_

_Zayn: Boys to kiss…_

_Louis: ;)_

Louis smiled down at the message thread and then closed it. He returned to his computer screen, which still showed Martha Wright’s profile. Louis tapped his fingers on the tabletop, deep in thought. Then he clicked the Messenger icon and began phase one of his plan.

Not surprisingly, Harry was hesitant to work as an accomplice for Louis. When Louis called Harry before he went to bed, Harry was understandably concerned.

“Just tell me you’ve thought this through,” Harry said dubiously.

“Of course I have,” Louis replied. “It’s a really good cause, Harry. You know this.”

“I do, yes,” Harry acknowledged. “But how is it going to work? And what if these friends of Jo’s say no?”

“Then at least we can say we tried.”

“Listen, I’ll help you out however I can. But just remember to be realistic,” Harry finally conceded.

“I will,” Louis said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry sighed.

“So,” Louis continued with a smile.

“So?”

“So is it too soon to propose an official second date?”

“Hmm,” Harry teased, “I vividly remember there once being a three-day rule.”

“Too bad,” Louis sighed into the phone. “Second dates are my favorite.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?” Harry asked curiously.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh?” Louis replied. “In three days, that is.”

Harry snickered. “You know what? I don’t think that rule is actually real. In fact, I know it isn’t.”

Louis hummed in consideration. “Well, I had a good time today, so I suppose we’ll just have to break the rules.”

“Mmm,” Harry said. His voice went even deeper than usual. “You’re a rebel. I like it.”

“Enough to see me tomorrow?” Louis asked with a grin.

“Enough to see you for lots of tomorrows.”

“In that case,” Louis concluded with a yawn, “I’ll say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Lou,” Harry said. “And by the way, I had fun today, too.”

Louis flashed back to kissing Harry earlier that day. He whispered a goodbye to Harry, hung up, and plugged his phone into the charger on the bedside table. He eventually fell asleep with the same word running through his head that he’d thought of when Harry kissed him: cherished.

When Louis woke to a notification on his phone several hours later and saw it was 3:30 a.m., he groaned and buried his face in the pillow. Anxiety thrummed through his body imagining all the terrible things this message could hold. His curiosity eventually won out. Louis opened a conversation in Facebook Messenger and squinted at his original message:

_Hi! My name is Louis Tomlinson. We’ve never met, but I believe we have a mutual friend. I’m currently at St. Lucia and have been getting to know a special couple who are here for their anniversary. If you don’t feel comfortable responding to this message, I understand! However, if you remember these old friends, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you for your consideration either way!_

To his surprise, Martha Wright had replied to the message. He read and reread her words on the screen, sent five minutes ago, and felt amazed.

_Hello, Louis. I don’t make a habit of chatting with strangers, but I recognize your name. I’ve read your novel to all my grandkids. I can’t be certain, but the couple I believe you are speaking of happen to be very old friends of mine and my late husband. I have fond memories of the Shields, and truly regret not keeping in touch over the years. May I assume since you are acquainted with them that they are alive and well?_

Louis carefully worded his reply and hit send. He was excited to have found Martha, but Harry’s warning to be realistic filled Louis’ mind.

_Martha, I don’t think our mutual friends would be upset to share that they are alive and well. You may have noticed they do not use Facebook. If you’d like, I would be happy to pass on a message to them. In the meantime, I’d like to ask a question if I may. When was the last time you took a holiday?_

Martha replied two minutes later. _Ages. Why do you ask?_

Louis smiled and sent her a reply. Satisfied with the progress he’d made, he closed the Messenger app and sank back against his pillow. He drifted off before Martha’s message came through.

“Let me get this straight,” Niall said across the bar at breakfast. “You struck up a conversation with a total stranger? Why?”

Louis glanced around covertly and then leaned closer to Niall. “Because I want to surprise Byron and Jo. Don’t you think they deserve a little more anniversary happiness?”

Niall frowned as he pondered the question. “Yeah. But how are you gonna do it?”

“Leave that to me. What I need you and Zayn to do is ask how long they’re staying,” Louis said.

“Ok. I guess we can do that.”

“Without giving away the surprise.”

“Ah, ok. Don’t worry; I can be crafty,” Niall said, winking. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Not exactly,” Louis said with a wince. “But I think it’s possible.”

“Jesus.”

“You’re the best, Niall. I have faith in you. Ok, I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got, um, things to do.”

Niall shot Louis a wicked grin. “I bet you do. Go on, Harry’s been expecting you all morning. Please visit him. I can’t take much more cheesy pop music, Lou.”

“You’re missing out, you know. I can do a stellar ‘Baby One More Time.’”

“Alright, you nerd. Get out of here,” Niall said. “And good luck.”

“Don’t need luck, Niall,” Louis said recalling Zayn’s words. “I’m dreaming bigger.”

Louis knocked twice on Harry’s office door, which was standing ajar. Belatedly, he realized he should have told Harry he was coming. But Harry spoke before Louis could sneak away.

“Come in,” Harry said politely.

Louis pushed the door open and surveyed the scene in front of him. In addition to some neatly-labeled file folders on the desk, Louis also saw a black binder beside Harry’s keyboard. Faint classical music was playing. Harry himself sat with his elbows on the desk and his chin propped in one hand, poring over the contents of the binder.

Harry looked up and met Louis’ eyes. His expression went from deep concentration to a warm smile.

“Morning,” Louis said. “Sorry, I should have called first.”

Harry sat up straight in his chair and his back popped in several places, never taking his eyes off Louis.

“No, don’t worry. I needed a break,” Harry answered.

Louis stepped closer and propped his hip against the side of Harry’s desk. “Working hard?” he asked, gesturing to the materials on Harry’s desk.

Harry glanced down at the binder and nodded. “Yeah. Side project.”

Louis didn’t want to pry, but when Harry lifted a glossy photo by the edges and presented it to him, Louis leaned closer in interest. The photo in Harry’s hands was a crisp, black-and-white image of a girl wearing a tiara. She appeared to be sobbing as she clutched a wrapped gift to her chest. Louis recognized her as the little girl Harry had photographed at her birthday party the other day. The picture conveyed clear emotion, as well as evoked memorable style and craft.

Louis glanced up to meet Harry’s eyes. The bright green eyes Louis was accustomed to seeing seemed muted under the fluorescent lights. Faint circles shadowed the skin under Harry’s eyes. Louis carefully handed the photo back to him.

“This is a great shot, Harry,” Louis said quietly. “You did amazing.”

Harry quirked a smile and returned the photo to what Louis could now see was a whole stack of photos spilling out of the black binder. When he looked at Louis again, Harry’s expression was hopeful.

“I have all these plans for off-the-wall photos like this,” Harry said ruefully. “And here they sit.”

Louis hummed as he considered Harry’s words and his clear fatigue. “What kind of plans?”

“The main one is to make a portfolio and send it out to real agencies. Maybe get an internship or better yet, a career.”

“Sounds good,” Louis replied carefully. “You’d be terrific as a professional photographer.”

“Thanks,” Harry answered softly. His eyes were downcast, and Louis got the feeling this was sensitive territory.

“Is anyone hiring now back home?” Louis asked.

Harry wordlessly picked up a stack of papers from his desk. As Louis looked closer, he could see that they were all applications and resumes.

“Ok,” Louis said. “This looks promising.”

Harry met Louis’ eyes and bit his lip. “It is.”

“But?”

“But,” Harry sighed, “I’m not sure I can do it, Lou. I organize all these photos and fill in the forms and then I just…freeze. Ever since I've been here at the resort, I've realized that I'd like to work with deaf people and their families. Help commemorate their memories. And look at me just sitting here.”

Harry looked so dejected that Louis physically couldn’t resist touching him. Slowly, he placed a reassuring hand on top of Harry’s and left it there. Louis didn’t know what to say, so he settled on touch. When Harry didn’t pull his hand away, Louis walked around behind Harry and braced his hands on Harry’s broad shoulders. He squeezed the tense muscles experimentally and tried to gauge Harry’s reaction.

For a moment, Harry didn’t move or speak. Louis pressed his thumbs firmly against Harry’s shoulders and began making slow, circling motions with his hands. Harry exhaled a bit shakily. Then he dropped his head towards his chest and relaxed into Louis’ touch. Louis smiled a little sadly and kept up a steady rhythm massaging Harry’s shoulders, then his neck. While Louis’ hands were smaller than Harry’s, he used a firm, consistent grip. When he spoke, he kept his voice soft and calm.

“When was the last time,” Louis said, “that you felt safe enough to talk about this with someone?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe never. I don’t want to burden anyone about it.”

“Hmm,” Louis said as he watched the steady rise and fall of Harry’s shoulders with each breath. “Do you want to now?”

“I, I guess,” Harry said. “But I know you’ve got a lot to do yourself with your novel. It’s not a big deal.”

Louis trailed his fingers up to Harry’s curls and lightly scratched his scalp. Then he dropped a kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Can I sit for a minute?”

“Sure,” Harry said.

“Thanks,” Louis replied, giving Harry’s shoulder one more squeeze. Then he sat down across from Harry in a guest chair.

Harry sat up slowly until he could meet Louis’ eyes. Then he smiled. Neither spoke for a moment, and Louis waited patiently for Harry to gather his thoughts.

“I applied for nine internships when I graduated uni,” Harry said to begin.

Louis nodded encouragingly, holding steady eye contact.

“I got none of them.” Harry looked down at the binder on his desk, then back at Louis. “I graduated top of my class. I’d been holding a camera even before I could walk,” he continued with a wistful smile. “Everyone had such high expectations for me. If possible, my own expectations were higher. It never occurred to me that I might fail.”

“What happened?” Louis ventured to ask.

“Most agencies didn’t even offer me an interview. The ones that did didn’t bother to send a proper rejection. Only one agency—one I really wanted to work for—sent my portfolio back with comments.”

Louis nodded slowly for Harry to continue.

“They said I wasn’t a good fit for them. Said my photos were ‘charming but tended towards the generic.’” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Want to know the worst part?”

“What’s that?” Louis asked.

“They were right.”

Louis waited a moment, then another for Harry to continue, to no avail. When Harry finally spoke, he appeared to be choosing his words carefully.

“And here’s what I learned: I was my own worst critic. My family wasn’t disappointed in me. They stuck by me through a tough time when I was totally lost. I was the one who was disappointed in myself. You know how that feels?”

Louis nodded again. “I do.”

“Have you…did anyone ever reject your work?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Louis smiled. “Yes. Many times. I was constantly on the verge of giving up. It’s devastating. I don’t think people on the outside realize that.”

“But you didn’t give up,” Harry said. “You made it.”

Louis’ smile dimmed. “I couldn’t have done it alone. People encouraged me constantly. When I handed my mum the first copy of my novel, I realized it was really happening.”

“I bet she was really proud, Lou.”

“The proudest,” Louis said. Tears pricked his eyes at the memory. “I think that was her favorite ‘I told you so’ of all time.”

Harry sniffled quietly, causing Louis to look up in alarm.

“Sorry. I’m, um, a sympathetic crier,” Harry said, reaching for tissues. He handed one to Louis, then took one for himself. Harry dabbed at his eyes and gave Louis a watery smile.

“What was the hardest part, do you think?” Harry asked.

Louis mulled it over for a moment. “Managing my expectations, probably. It’s like you said; I’m my own worst critic. I had to accept that some people did not like my work, and I couldn’t change that by worrying over it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “I get that.”

“Personally, I hate unsolicited advice,” Louis continued. “So I won’t tell you what you should do. All I’ll say is, you’re not alone. You know? The people who matter will always support you. Like your family, and Niall, and your friends here.”

“And you?”

“Always me,” Louis promised with a reassuring nod. “You think I won’t hop the next flight to wherever you are to celebrate your success?”

Harry held his gaze for a long moment. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Shake on it?”

Louis wordlessly extended his hand, and Harry clasped it in his own hand. His eyes never wavered from Harry’s as he shook Harry’s hand slowly. Louis smiled at the warmth that emanated from their point of contact to the rest of his body. He slowly leaned across the desk and pecked a delicate kiss to Harry’s lips.

“I’m going back to write for a while. Door opened or closed?” Louis asked.

“Open, please,” Harry murmured. His eyes shined as he looked at Louis.

“Call me if you need me,” Louis concluded. “Otherwise, I’ll see you for date number two.”

Harry grinned. “I can’t wait. Thanks, Lou. Really.”

Louis rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Anytime, H. Oh, I almost forgot—the phrase of the day.”

“What’s that?”

“Dream bigger, love.” With that, Louis turned and walked out the door. If he had a silly smile on his face all the way back to his villa, Louis would blame it on Harry.

Life on St. Lucia fell into a pattern for Louis for the next few days. He spent his mornings writing, ate lunch with Zayn and Niall, and hung out with Harry in the evenings. Louis would finish out the night by calling or texting Lottie. Island dates with Harry ran the gamut from exciting (snorkeling in the bay) to chill (dinners outside the gated resort) to peaceful (riding in Harry’s car with the windows down at night, just driving). Louis and Harry shared a love for 90s to early 2000s pop music while they drove the nearly-deserted causeway around the west side of the island. While the warm Caribbean breeze blew through Harry’s secondhand convertible, Louis would close his eyes and sing along with the music Harry played. Harry’s music taste ranged from mellow 70s rock to singer/songwriters with guitars to Top 40 hits. To Louis’ delight, Harry knew all the words to Cascada’s “Everytime We Touch” and sang it dramatically until Louis couldn’t stop laughing.

Louis never lost sight of his manuscript deadline, and he understood that soon he would leave the Landings resort and return to his everyday life. He knew Harry had a job and a life carved out here in St. Lucia. But Louis lived each moment to the fullest with Harry. It was no surprise that the more he balanced his writing life with a social life, the smoother his story flowed when he did sit down to write. It was like one day, Louis was staring at a blank screen, and the next he had six chapters down. Louis had reached a point in his life where he could take ownership for his success; he knew his writing progress wasn’t all due to Harry or Zayn or the island. Louis was putting in the time and effort to write each day. But he felt grateful for his friends and their encouragement.

Louis’ character, Miles, was coming along well. The more Louis delved into Miles’ life and history, the more he liked him. Miles and Aaron’s friendship wasn’t always easy given their personal baggage, but the two were committed to being there for each other. Sometimes when Louis was sketching out moments between Miles and Aaron, he would remember Harry’s words on the beach that night: _You’re not alone. You’ve got me._ It was a guiding phrase for Louis’ storyline now.

Louis had also stayed in contact with Martha White, to his surprise. Martha was spending her widowed years surrounded by friends and family. It inspired Louis for the first time to picture his own future with optimism. While he might never shake the fear that he would one day die alone, Louis could see hope for a fulfilled life on the horizon. Martha, in the meantime, had accepted Louis’ plan at once, asking only one thing in return: signed copies of his novel _Home_ for her grandchildren. Louis agreed at once.

Zayn and Niall had gathered from conversations with the Shields that they planned to stay five more days at the resort. It wasn’t a lot of time to plan the kind of event Louis had envisioned, but he loved a challenge.

Otherwise, Louis let each day unfold as it would. At times, he didn’t know what day of the week it was. Instead, he measured time in milestones: the first fight between his characters Miles and Aaron; the morning Louis woke up to bruises on his neck and collarbones from Harry’s kisses; the time Louis arrived at the bar to find Zayn and Niall’s hands folded one on top of the other as they talked. The most Zayn was willing to admit was that Niall made him feel happy, sometimes with just a smile. Louis just hugged Zayn in encouragement and let him be.

It wasn’t until Louis woke one morning to the sight of hazy clouds outside his window that something felt off. Louis tended to embrace his gut feelings about things, so he was wary most of the morning. Niall suggested the resort may get some rain that evening, and Harry pored over tide maps of St. Lucia online. Anticipation was in the air as guests spread word of a storm possibly arriving later.

Some of the excitement had worn off around lunch, however, so Louis returned to his villa to write. He blazed through an entire chapter that afternoon. A glance out the window showed sunshine breaking through the clouds, so Louis showered and dressed to meet Harry for dinner. They had agreed to meet at the bar for dinner and then take a lazy walk on the beach, so Louis dressed in jean shorts and a cuffed white shirt. To his surprise, Louis was actually developing a tan. He called Zayn on his way to the bar and promised to check in when he returned to his room.

When Louis arrived at the bar, he spotted Harry talking to the other bartender, Greg. Louis caught Greg’s eye and smiled politely. Greg patted Harry’s arm and gestured towards Louis, and Harry turned around. Harry was wearing a soft-looking black top and a pair of khaki shorts. He was smiling at Louis, having seemingly forgotten about his conversation with the bartender. Walking towards Harry, Louis felt as if he was moving in slow motion. He realized that this mental image would be burned in his mind forever: Harry standing in the late-afternoon sun, hair blowing in the gentle breeze, smiling at Louis. Louis quelled the impulse to take a picture then; instead, he returned Harry’s warm smile as he stepped into Harry’s personal space.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said. “You look nice.”

Louis rolled his eyes and grinned. “If I look nice, then you look stunning.”

Harry’s answering smile was bright. “Thank you.”

Louis discovered that they were standing there just staring into each other’s eyes. He glanced around to see that the bartender had vanished and only a few guests remained on the beach. Louis slipped his hand into Harry’s.

“Dinner?” Louis asked.

“Dinner,” Harry confirmed.

“Looks like our bartender is long gone. Now what?”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he led Louis by the hand around to the back of the bar. He wordlessly pulled out two wineglasses and placed them on the bar. Then Harry pulled a bottle from a small refrigerator and uncorked it with a nearby bottle opener. He poured two generous glasses of white wine.

Louis admired Harry’s graceful motions as he watched. Louis had almost given himself a concussion trying to open a stubborn bottle of wine once.

“I’m officially impressed,” Louis said when Harry placed a glass of wine in front of him. “You’re good with your hands.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he smirked at the unintentional double entendre. “Only one way to find out,” he teased.

Louis’ cheeks flushed pink as _you’re good with your hands_ echoed mercilessly through his mind. He shook his head and smacked Harry gently on the arm. “You’re the worst.”

Harry chuckled and then took a sip of his wine. “I started out as a bartender when I hired on here,” he explained. “It was a steep learning curve.”

“It seems to have paid off,” Louis said. “You make it look easy.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. This time, Harry was the one to blush. “So what are you thinking for dinner?”

Louis thought for a minute, having almost memorized the bar menu by now. “Salad with grilled shrimp?” he proposed.

“Sounds good,” Harry said. He quickly typed a message on his phone. “Want to grab a table?”

“Harry,” Louis replied slowly, “did you just text someone our food order?”

Harry grinned unrepentantly. “Hey, it’s not every day I get to take you on a nice date.”

Louis shook his head fondly. “I’ll allow it just this once.”

Louis and Harry chatted and sipped their wine while they waited for dinner. Louis had been filling Harry in on his novel storyline when a movement caught his eye. A man was jogging across the pathway and down to the beach. A white apron hung around his neck, but the strings at his waist were untied, making the apron flap in the breeze. Louis abruptly stopped talking and gestured towards the man. Harry turned and watched the man approach, since he was in fact running directly towards Harry. Harry’s expression turned from pleasant to puzzled, and then he rose to his feet.

“What in the world?” Harry murmured under his breath. And then a little louder, “Tony?”

Tony was still running, and now he began to wave his arms to get Harry’s attention. He arrived at their table gasping for breath.

“Hey, boss,” Tony said breathlessly, bracing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Tony took a few deep breaths, and then he continued. “Have you…sorry,” Tony coughed, clearly still winded, “have you seen Maia?”

Something clicked in Louis’ mind as he recalled Harry telling him about Maia’s family. Tony was the head chef as well as Maia’s dad. Anxiety shot through Louis like little tendrils unfurling in his limbs.

Harry froze. “I saw her at lunch. She said she was going to visit you in the kitchen later.”

Tony shook his head in frustration. He wiped sweat from his face with the corner of his apron. “She told Raeni that, too. But she told me she was going to be with you on the beach.”

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. “I don’t understand. Where is she now?”

“We…we don’t know, Harry,” Tony said, voice cracking with emotion. It’s been hours.”

Louis looked from Tony to Harry and felt his pulse begin to race. He felt helpless. Harry’s voice snapped Louis out of his internal panic.

“Has anyone else seen her?” Harry asked in a measured voice. “We can find her; I just need to know who saw her last.”

Tony shook his head as he grew more agitated. “I don’t know, honestly. If she’s hiding again, there’s no telling where she is. And it’s getting dark soon, and—“ Tony said, choking out a sob. “Where could she be?”

Harry set his jaw and took deep breaths. A moment later, he spoke. “We know most of her hiding places. I’m gonna call Niall and the security team, ok? We’ll check as many of her usual spots as we can. Where’s Raeni?”

“She’s waiting back at our place in case Maia comes there first,” Tony replied. Tears streamed steadily down his face as he spoke. “Oh my god, Harry. She hasn’t done this in so long…I just thought that phase was over, and…”

“Ok, Tony,” Harry replied calmly. “Can you look at me?”

Tony wiped his tears impatiently and stared at Harry with red-rimmed eyes.

“Good,” Harry nodded. He braced his hands on Tony’s shoulders as he spoke. “You know we won’t rest until we find her, ok?”

“Y-yes,” Tony nodded.

“We’re gonna make sure she’s safe and back with you soon.”

“Yeah,” Tony said breathlessly, “ok.”

“I’m gonna alert security, Tony. I need you to help me, ok?” Harry requested.

“Sure, anything.”

“Call Raeni,” Harry replied. “Tell her we’re searching now, and to keep her phone close. We’ll keep her updated as we go.”

“Ok, Harry,” Tony said, taking a fortifying breath and letting it out. “I’ll do that now.”

Louis watched with tears stinging his eyes as Tony dialed his wife and relayed Harry’s instructions. Then he looked at Harry. Harry had stepped back and now stood with his hands on his hips, breathing deeply in and out. He began tapping his phone urgently. Louis watched as Harry dialed a number himself and walked a few steps away to speak on the phone. When he returned, Harry appeared on the verge of collapse. For a split second, Louis held his breath in fear. But the moment passed. Harry stood up to his full height, pocketed his phone, and then asked Tony a question.

“Is she ok?” Harry asked, gesturing to Tony’s phone as he ended the call.

“She’s ok, just really scared,” Tony admitted. “What…where do I go now? What should I do?”

Harry paused to think for a moment. “I think you should go to Raeni and wait in case Maia comes home.”

Tony nodded and turned on his heel to leave, then stopped. He wrapped Harry in a crushing hug. “I’m sorry, Harry. Thank you.” Then Tony nodded in farewell and sprinted off in the direction he had come.

Harry waited until Tony was out of sight to look at Louis. His bright eyes brimmed with tears, and he was breathing a little too quickly. Harry opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, immobilized in panic.

Louis was out of his seat in a moment. He approached Harry carefully, trying to read his body language. When Harry squeezed his eyes closed and tears spilled down his cheeks, Louis reached for his hand. Harry’s eyes flew open at the touch and he gripped Louis hand.

“Lou, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he began. “I just…I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

Louis nodded patiently. “You’re going to find her, Harry. I’m gonna help you. I’ll call Zayn, too. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Harry nodded faintly, then sucked in a deep breath. “We need a map.”

Louis made the sprint to Harry’s office feeling as worried as Harry looked. Inside Harry’s office, Harry rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out a folded map. He spread it on the desk, wiping absently at a few stray tears. Louis stepped back to let Harry work. He could see from a few feet away that the map was of the resort. Harry grabbed a pen at random from his desk and began marking places with Xs. When he glanced up at Louis, some of the panic had faded from his expression.

“These spots,” Harry said, “are some of Maia’s hiding places. Tony was right; she used to do this often, just run off alone to hide, but she hasn’t tried it in a long time.”

Louis stepped close enough to see that most of Maia’s past hiding places were near the water. He wasn’t familiar with every part of the resort like Harry, but he trusted his gut.

“Does she like the water, H?” Louis asked, tracing the Xs with his finger on the map.

“Definitely,” Harry said. He met Louis’ eyes with an intense stare. “What are you thinking about?”

“How was she behaving when you saw her earlier?”

“She was…fine,” Harry shrugged with a slight frown. “I made her lunch and we talked some.”

“Walk me through it,” Louis coaxed.

“Um,” Harry huffed in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair, “she wanted a turkey sandwich and a Coke. I made her the sandwich.”

“Good,” Louis urged. “What did you talk about?”

“We…we talked about you actually,” Harry said. “How the first time we talked you asked questions about jellyfish, and Maia thought that was funny because…”

“Because?”

“Because,” Harry said, turning to face Louis slowly, “she knows all about them.”

Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How much does she know?”

“Everything,” Harry said, his face going pale. “Their scientific classification and sizes and how long they’ve been alive, and…”

“And?”

“And she asked me if there were jellyfish on the island, and I told her yes, at various times. Oh my god, Lou.”

“Think, Harry,” Louis said. “Where could she go to see them?”

“Um,” Harry said, voice rising in panic, “I told her---I told her the bay was full of them depending on water levels and temperatures. Shit. Oh my god.”

“Ok,” Louis said as calmly as possible. “How’s the tide right now?”

Harry blinked quickly. “It’s the Caribbean,” Harry murmured as in a trance. “There’s practically _no_ tide. But the temperature cooled a bit over the course of the day.”

“Where would she go, Harry?” Louis asked, squeezing Harry’s hand.

Harry looked at Louis as if he was seeing him for the first time. “Far enough to stay out of our sight. A-around the bay,” he stammered.

“Grab the map,” Louis instructed as he pulled out his phone to text Zayn. He glanced at Harry to find him staring at the map, not moving. “Harry. Now,” Louis insisted.

Harry nodded and folded up the map quickly and dashed to the door. At the last second, he turned to grab a flashlight from a shelf by the door and handed it to Louis. “Ready?” Harry asked with one foot out the door.

“Right behind you,” Louis said as he pocketed his phone and followed Harry through the building and out towards the beach. Around three minutes had elapsed during the time in Harry’s office, but Louis didn’t slow down. The sun was beginning to set over the bay as they ran across the beach. People would soon be swarming the beach looking for Maia, but Louis realized with a sinking feeling that Maia wouldn’t hear them calling her name.

Niall intercepted Harry and Louis on the beach. Harry came to a halt in the sand.

“Have they found her?” Harry asked.

Niall shook his head grimly. “No. But this might help,” he suggested, holding a list in his hand.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Niall huddled closer to Harry and Louis, pointing at the list. “According to today’s inventory, all the equipment has been returned. But we’re still missing a paddleboard.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. “You think she…?”

Niall shrugged. “It’s possible, H.”

Harry clenched his jaw and nodded. “Niall, I hate to say this, but—“

“You need a boat, don’t you?” Niall answered.

Harry nodded quickly. “The sooner, the better. It’s getting dark.”

“Done,” Niall nodded in finality. He raced off across the beach.

Harry turned to Louis. “We’re gonna find her,” he said, more to himself than to Louis.

“Yes, we are,” Louis agreed. “Can you hang in for just a little while longer?”

“I-I can,” Harry said. He was still a little too pale for Louis’ liking. “Are you coming?”

Louis nodded briskly. “I’m with you till the end of the line.”

“Ok,” Harry said on a shaky exhale. “Let’s go.”

Louis and Harry were waiting on the dock along the beach when Niall pulled up in fishing boat. They scrambled onto the boat and each sat down in a chair. “Thanks, Niall,” Harry said gratefully.

“No problem. Ready to go?” Niall replied.

“Ready. Can we take off around the north side of the bay first?” Harry asked, pointing off into the distance.

“On it,” Niall said as he put the boat into gear and steered away from the dock.

For a few moments, Harry didn’t speak. He stared out intently across the water. As the boat trolled along the bay, all three of them scanned the shoreline in search of Maia. Louis stared at the sunset and silently begged it to slow down to no avail. For once, Louis didn’t contemplate the beautiful colors as the sun sank further into the horizon.

“Niall, do you have a flag? A flashlight? Something like that?”

“Yep, I’ve got both,” Niall replied. “Check the storage under Louis’ seat.”

Louis jumped up and stepped aside for Harry to search for the items. Harry pulled out a high-powered flashlight bigger than his own and a neon orange flag.

“Bingo,” Harry murmured, putting Louis’ seat back in place.

When Louis sat back down, a flash caught his eye. He turned back towards the beach to see dozens of people walking with flashlights along the shore. Louis blinked back tears at the sight and gazed back out across the bay. A sliver of sunset remained across the water now. He bit his lip to avoid asking questions. He knew they were already running through Harry’s mind.

_How long has Maia been out there? Is she scared? What will happen when it gets dark?_

As twilight settled around them, Louis began scanning the shoreline in earnest. Harry was on the edge of his seat with a flashlight at the ready. Niall’s expression was unusually tense as he piloted the boat further from the resort.

They were entering an area of the island Louis hadn’t seen before. As the resort faded behind them in the distance, Louis began to see single-family beach houses and small condos. Lights already twinkled through most of the windows as Louis imagined their inhabitants were settling in for the evening. Seconds ticked by, and there was still no sign of Maia.

Niall steered the boat around a curve, and Louis’ stomach filled with dread. There were hardly any lights here. No one stirred on the beach. A child could wave and call for help here, and no one might notice. When they cleared the curve, Niall eased up on the accelerator. He guided the boat closer to the shore. For a fleeting moment, Louis froze at the thought that perhaps they had gone the wrong way. What if Maia had paddled south around the other side of the bay? Louis stubbornly blocked that train of thought, refusing to acknowledge any more what ifs.

Harry stood up and aimed the high-beam flashlight at the deserted shore. Wordlessly, Louis grabbed the flag to wave. The edges of the orange flag glowed in the dark, and Louis hoisted the flag high. It rippled in the tranquil breeze. Gentle waves lapped at the side of the boat, providing the only sound as the three scoured the shoreline for the next few minutes.

“Two minutes and we’re turning around,” Harry called out to Niall. “We can check in with the search party and explore the other end of the bay if necessary.”

“Just say the word,” Niall agreed.

Louis shined his flashlight from the narrow beach to the perimeter of the boat. His impulse to call out to Maia was futile, so the light was his best bet. As full darkness cloaked the bay, Niall broke the silence.

“Now?” he asked, ready to turn the boat around.

Harry hesitated for a moment, and then another. His shoulders sagged in defeat. Then something clinked against the side of the boat. Harry dashed to the side and looked over the edge. Louis aimed his flashlight at the dark waves and gasped at the source of the noise.

A long paddle was floating in the water.

Harry cursed under his breath and whirled to face Niall. “It’s one of ours,” Harry said. “She’s been here.”

“Shit,” Niall mumbled as he clutched the wheel to edge the boat closer to shore. “If she’s here, we’ll find her, H.”

“Shit,” Harry echoed. “She was still learning how to manage these boards on her own. I don’t know how she even got it past us unnoticed.”

Thoughts raced through Louis’ head that he refused to voice. Nearly frantic now, Louis tried to hold his flashlight steady as he swept the beam up and down the shore. Then he walked around the boat, shining the light into the water where they found the paddle. Louis’ jaw dropped.

Under the surface of the water, something was moving. Louis’ heart leapt into his throat when he focused the beam and realized the water was absolutely teeming with jellyfish.

“H,” Louis called faintly. “Harry.”

Harry was at his side in a second, following the direction of Louis’ flashlight. Louis watched in horror as the creatures swarmed in the water with dangerous grace.

“Ok,” Harry said with a slow nod. “Ok.” He turned back to Niall and instructed him to pull closer to the shore to continue the search.

At first, they were met with the same quiet and emptiness on all sides. Louis held his breath as he beamed his light towards the shore. Niall killed the engine for a moment, and the silence was absolute. And then, Louis heard a faint splash.

Louis sucked in a surprised breath and aimed his light in the direction of the sound. His pulse was pounding in his ears, but he didn’t dare move an inch. Louis waited.

“There!” Louis said, breaking the silence. “Do you hear that?”

Harry’s head whipped around. He zeroed in on the spot Louis was illuminating with his flashlight and stood stock-still. First there was nothing. And then…

Splash.

“Harry,” Louis gasped.

“I know,” Harry said breathlessly.

Together, they aimed their lights towards the beach. A movement sliced through the shadows and into the beam of light. Louis saw a small hand waving on the beach.

“Niall!” Harry exclaimed, pointing towards the shore. “Go.”

Without hesitation, Niall revved up the engine and sped towards the shoreline, using Harry and Louis’ flashlight beams as a guide. Louis retrieved the orange flag and waved it high.

“Far as I can take her,” Niall said moments later.

Louis’ eyes widened as he calculated the distance to the shore. The boat had traveled close enough that now, an entire human figure stood in silhouette in the bright light. But it was still a fair distance for a child to swim.

Adrenaline coursed through Louis’ veins as he held the beam steady on the figure. He saw a pink swimsuit, then a few stray curls, and finally a panicked face. Maia was waving her hands frantically. It took a moment for Louis to realize she was signing.

Harry abruptly dropped his flashlight on the floor of the boat. He wordlessly stripped his shirt off and kicked off his sandals.

“Towels, Niall?” Harry asked.

“In the back,” Niall assured him.

Louis gasped when Harry stepped one foot onto the edge of the boat. He realized suddenly that Harry wasn’t waiting to radio in; Harry was diving in himself. Harry handed Louis his phone.

“If something happens, call for help,” Harry instructed quickly. “Niall, grab the towels.”

“Be careful,” Louis replied with his heart in his throat. “Please.”

Harry nodded and glanced again at Maia splashing on the shore. Then he dived into the dark water and began to swim.

A thought occurred to Louis, and he rushed to the side of the boat again. He shined his flashlight on the water and confirmed his suspicions: jellyfish were swarming in the water.

Niall killed the engine and grabbed a stack of towels from storage in the back of the boat. He raced back towards Louis. Niall followed Louis’ flashlight beam and then groaned at the sight of the creatures in the water.

“Fuck,” Niall said. “How’s he going to get Maia through all that?”

“I don’t know,” Louis whispered, watching Harry cut through the water towards the shore. Reluctantly, Louis aimed his light back at the shoreline to watch Maia.

“Are they going to need a hospital?” Louis asked worriedly.

“Probably,” Niall replied, snapping back into motion. He reached for the boat radio and began sending out calls for help.

Meanwhile, Louis watched wide-eyed as Harry cleared the shore and rushed towards Maia on the beach. He knelt in front of her and signed something in a rush. Maia appeared terrified still. She clutched onto Harry, and this close, Louis could hear her crying. Harry checked Maia over carefully, lingering on a few swollen welts on her ankles. When he stood and led her by the hand down the beach, Maia was full-on sobbing. Louis watched as Harry stopped at the water’s edge and helped Maia climb onto his back. Louis’ heart skipped a beat. There would be no waiting for help. Harry was going to swim her back to the boat himself.

That was when Louis’ flashlight went out.

“Lights,” Louis whispered. Then, “Lights! Niall!” Louis stared helplessly into the darkness. “Are there lights on the boat?” he asked.

“Yes,” Niall said, rushing towards the steering column and tapping a few buttons. A moment later, lights glowed around the perimeter of the boat and reflected on the water. Louis saw and heard nothing. He shook his flashlight uselessly, begging it to come on.

That’s when Louis heard it: the sound of water splashing. It was coming closer. Louis’ flashlight blinked back on, and Louis rushed towards the sound. Tears sprang to his eyes at the sight of Harry swimming towards the boat. Maia was perched on Harry’s back, almost completely out of reach of the jellyfish that swam below. Harry squinted his eyes at the bright beam of light.

“I’m handing her up, Lou,” Harry said as he swam. “Get her out of the water.”

Niall guided Harry towards the ladder at the back of the boat with his flashlight. Tears streaked down Louis’ face as Maia came into view climbing the ladder. Niall opened his arms and wrapped Maia in a towel. He pulled a bottle of water from another storage area and coaxed her to drink it.

Louis rushed back to the ladder in time to catch Harry as he climbed into the boat. Harry was dripping wet and gasping for breath when he met Louis’ eyes in the dim lights of the boat.

“Louis.”

The sound of Harry’s voice brought a fresh round of tears to Louis’ eyes. His hands shook as he reached out to touch Harry. Louis was afraid this Harry was just a figment of his imagination. But the skin under Louis’ fingertips was wet and covered in goosebumps. Harry was trying to catch his breath still. Hair dripped down into his eyes. Harry’s gaze flickered to Niall and Maia inside the boat, and then back to Louis.

“Go,” Louis said, wiping tears from his eyes. “See if she’s ok.”

Harry nodded and wordlessly staggered towards Maia. When he sat down on the floor of the boat, Maia sprang towards him and held on tight. Niall left the bottle of water beside her and then returned to the wheel. Louis pulled out his phone and dialed Zayn. Zayn answered on the first ring.

“We’ve got her,” Louis said in relief. “Going to need a medic or something.”

“Jesus, Lou,” Zayn replied. “Ok. We’ll be waiting on the beach.”

Louis murmured his thanks and then pocketed his phone. While Niall sped around the curve of the bay and back towards the beach, Louis turned to Harry and Maia in concern. Maia was signing quickly with a towel around her waist. Harry nodded and signed a reply. This went on for several moments, and then Harry glanced up at Louis.

“She’s ok,” Harry said.

Louis wordlessly grabbed another towel and brought it to Harry. He wrapped it around Harry’s shoulders and then sat down across from him in the floor of the boat. Maia curled up in Harry’s lap, and he held her close in silence. Behind them, Niall was speaking to someone on the boat radio.

“Any stings?” Louis asked, gesturing to Maia.

“A couple on her ankles,” Harry said quietly. “Nothing Raeni and Tony can’t mend.”

“And you?” Louis asked in concern. He glanced closer at Harry’s skin, and then swore under his breath. “Shit, Harry.” Harry’s arms and legs were covered in red welts.

Harry glanced down at his own limbs and nodded thoughtfully. “Hurts a bit.” When he met Louis’ eyes, Harry quirked a smile. “I’ll be fine, Lou. Promise.”

Niall turned off the radio with a click. “Almost there,” he called.

Louis turned and saw lights dancing on the beach. A large group was still gathered there waiting with their flashlights. Louis hoped at least one of those people knew first aid.

Niall steered the boat back to the dock and came to a stop. A man and woman pushed through the crowd towards the boat. Louis recognized Tony and a woman he took to be Maia’s mother, Raeni.

Raeni took one look at Maia curled up in Harry’s lap and broke down in tears. Tony looked at Harry in shock. “Is she ok?” Tony asked.

Harry stood and guided Maia towards her waiting parents. “She will be. I think she needs her mum and dad and a good night’s sleep.”

Tony dropped to his knees as Maia took a few steps onto the dock. He signed something to her and then opened his arms. Maia saw her parents and ran into Tony’s arms. Her thin shoulders shook as she cried. Raeni knelt beside Tony and wrapped her arms around her family. She glanced up at Harry. Raeni mouthed a thank you to Harry, and Harry nodded in reply.

Louis watched as Maia’s family led her back up the beach where a medic was waiting. The crowd parted for the family, a few guests clapping quietly. Louis turned back towards Harry to see him climbing off the boat. Niall prepared to dock the boat behind them. The crowd began to disperse on the beach.

As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion set in for Louis. He could only imagine how Harry was feeling. Harry was walking towards Louis with a tired smile. His hair was still dripping onto his bare shoulders, and his skin was dotted with jellyfish stings.

“Time for bed?” Harry asked around a yawn.

“Time for first aid,” Louis corrected, taking Harry’s hand and leading him towards the medic.

“She’s ok, right? Truly?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Louis said as he gave Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, bumping his shoulder against Louis’ and then hissing in pain. “Shit.”

“That’s why we’re going to get you checked, Harry.”

“Ok,” Harry agreed sleepily. “Lead the way.”

A friendly nurse named Dan examined Harry’s wounds in a makeshift first aid center at the bar while Louis paced on the beach. When Harry emerged a few minutes later, he gestured for Louis to come over.

“Dan wants to talk to you,” Harry said. “He gave me medicine.”

Louis joined Dan at the bar. “How’s it looking?” Louis asked in greeting.

Dan smiled. “He’s good to go for tonight, but I’d like him to check in tomorrow. I gave him an antihistamine and some ointment for the stings, as well as a mild pain reliever. Now what you’ll want to do is check each wound for signs of tentacles. If you see any, just scrape them off with a credit card. Then apply some ointment and call it a night.”

Louis listened carefully to Dan’s instructions and nodded. He thanked Dan for his help, and then caught up with Harry, who was sitting at a nearby table chatting with Niall and Zayn.

“Alright, Harry,” Louis said in greeting. “How are you feeling?”

“Nice,” Harry said a little dreamily.

Louis frowned slightly, then shrugged. “Ready for bed now?”

Harry nodded and bid Zayn and Niall goodnight. Louis hugged them both, and then led Harry towards bed…wherever that was.

“Harry?” Louis asked as they walked.

“Mmm?”

“Where do you live?”

Harry giggled. “You want to come over, Lou?”

“Yep,” Louis replied. “Just show me how to get there.”

Harry smiled and peered into the bag that Dan had given him. “I don’t know if you know this,” Harry whispered, leaning closer to Louis, “but Dan gave me the good stuff.”

“What?” Louis asked in confusion.

Harry pulled out a small bottle and handed it to Louis with a placid smile. “See?”

“This is Benadryl, Harry.”

“Exactly!” Harry whispered conspiratorially. “Pretty good stuff.”

Louis cracked a smile. “You’re high as fuck right now, aren’t you?”

Harry giggled again. “Maybe.”

“You’ve never taken this stuff before?” Louis asked as he tried to read the fine print on the bottle.

“I don’t do hard drugs, Lou.”

Louis rolled his eyes and handed the bottle back to Harry. “Good. Please don’t ever try them. You seem to be very sensitive to medicine.”

Harry winked and linked his fingers with Louis’. He guided them around the resort to a villa Louis hadn’t noticed before.

“Key card?” Louis asked at the door.

Harry pulled a card out of his back pocket and only fumbled slightly handing it to Louis. Louis opened the door to the villa and stepped aside to let Harry go first. He watched in amusement as Harry prepared to leave his shoes by the door, only to realize he was barefoot.

“Oops,” Harry said. “No shoes.” He wandered towards the bedroom. “Come on in, Lou.”

“Are you hungry?” Louis asked as he locked the deadbolt and followed Harry into the villa.

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and just lay down, I think.”

“Good,” Louis agreed. “Do that, and then I’ll help you check the stings.”

Louis found a spare charger for his phone in Harry’s living room. He opened the refrigerator in the kitchen and discovered fresh fruits and veggies as well as a few bottles of water. Louis grabbed two and then headed towards Harry’s bedroom, grabbing the bag of medicine on the way. He paused in the doorway at the sight of Harry sitting on the bed in a clean pair of pants, running a towel through his wet hair.

Harry looked up at Louis and smiled shyly. “I didn’t know where you want me.”

Louis cracked a smile. “Lay back and get comfortable if you want.”

Harry tossed his towel in a laundry basket by the door and then followed Louis’ instructions. Harry wiggled around a little, arranging his pillow just so and stretching his long limbs. A moment later, he nodded at Louis.

“I’m ready, doc.”

Louis pulled out his own key card and the tube of ointment that Dan had given him earlier. He scanned the label on the small tube, noting that it could be administered a few times a day as needed. Louis glanced at Harry to find him tracking every movement with his eyes. Louis offered him an encouraging smile and walked around to the other side of the bed. He plopped down without ceremony and then sat beside Harry. Louis brushed a few rogue curls of Harry’s hair away from his face. Finally, he raised the key card between them.

“I’ve never done this, so I’m sorry if it hurts,” Louis began. “Just hold still for me.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Ready.”

Louis leaned closer still to examine the jellyfish stings on Harry’s chest. A few of them were clear, and Louis carefully opened the tube of ointment and applied small dabs to Harry’s skin. Louis could see a few tentacles in other places, though. He picked up his key card. Louis delicately scraped the edge of the card over the small tentacles on Harry’s skin. Harry didn’t flinch, so Louis imagined it didn’t hurt that badly. But Louis was still gentle as he rubbed a bit of ointment on the inflamed skin of Harry’s chest.

“Ok,” Louis murmured, “one down and 900 to go.” He glanced up at Harry’s face with a teasing expression and found he was much closer than he had imagined. Louis felt a bit shy as he gazed at Harry this close up, but he had a job to do.

“So many sexy doctor jokes,” Harry lamented quietly, “all gone to waste because I’ve ruined my brain with drugs.”

“Benadryl,” Louis reminded him with a chuckle.

“So you say.”

Louis rolled his eyes fondly and returned to the task of tending to Harry’s wounds. He methodically applied ointment to each cleared patch of affected skin from Harry’s chest, to his neck, to his arms and legs, and down to his feet. Sometimes Louis hummed, and other times he solely concentrated on his work. Soon, he had finished examining all the wounds on Harry’s front.

“Can you sit up for me, H?” Louis asked as he sat back on his heels.

Silence.

“Harry?” Louis asked a little louder.

Harry’s eyes flew open and he blinked rapidly. “I fell asleep.”

“I know. I’m sorry, H. I’ll get this done as quick as I can.”

Harry smiled sleepily at Louis and made a move to sit up. Suddenly, Harry’s eyes widened and he swayed in place, clearly still dizzy.

“Um.”

“No worries, it’s ok,” Louis assured him. “Let’s try to lay on our side instead.”

Harry nodded his assent and slowly turned away from Louis to rest on his right side. “Ok,” Harry said. “I’m ready.”

Louis took a deep breath at the sight of so many red welts on Harry’s back and shoulders. Then he leaned closer to Harry to begin tending those wounds as well. Louis scraped the few tentacles away that still clung to Harry’s skin. Then he applied dots of ointment to each wound. Louis found a few stings on the backs of Harry’s legs, and repeated the process. When he was satisfied with his work, Louis reached over Harry to grab a tissue from his bedside table. Louis wiped the smudges of ointment from his fingers and carefully replaced the cap on the tube. Then he placed the ointment on the bedside table for later use if necessary.

“I messed up, Harry,” Louis sighed as realization dawned on him.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, sounding two seconds away from sleep.

“You’ve got ointment on both sides now and it hasn’t dried yet.”

“Ok,” Harry mumbled. Silence followed, and Louis assumed he had fallen right to sleep. But then Harry stirred and sat up slowly in his bed. He was probably smudging the ointment on his legs in the process, but it was Harry’s bed, after all. If Harry didn’t mind, Louis wasn’t going to fuss.

Harry turned bleary eyes to Louis. “How long?” he rasped sleepily.

“Couple minutes, love,” Louis replied. “Then you can sleep.”

“Can you set an alarm for the morning, Lou?”

“Why?”

“I have to, um,” Harry said around a huge yawn, “I have to work.”

“You’re not working tomorrow, Harry,” Louis said kindly but firmly.

Harry frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Louis beat him to it.

“You’re gonna stay in this bed until I say, and then I’m making you breakfast,” Louis said.

“Oh god.”

“Excuse you,” Louis replied. “I can handle breakfast.”

“I have complete faith in you,” Harry mumbled.

“Thank you,” Louis smiled. He cradled both sides of Harry’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Now sleep, please.”

“Lou,” Harry said hesitantly, “um. Will you stay?”

“I will,” Louis promised. “Now, do you need more pain medicine or anything?”

“No thanks,” Harry said as he eased his sore body under the covers. “I’m just gonna…”

“Sleep, Harry.”

Louis climbed off the bed to wash his hands in Harry’s en suite and then turned off the lights. By the moonlight filtering in through Harry’s blinds, Louis traced his way back around the bed. He stripped off his shirt and jean shorts and folded them neatly in a chair by the bed. Then he pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and climbed in next to Harry. It didn’t hit Louis how exhausted he was until his head met the pillow. Assuming Harry had long since fallen asleep, Louis finally closed his eyes. A moment later, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Lou? You awake?”

“Yeah. Are you ok?” Louis asked, sliding closer towards Harry.

“Yeah. I just wanted to say thanks, and um. I’m with you too, you know? Till the end of the line.”

Louis slid closer still, until he could touch Harry. Then he curled around Harry’s back, careful not to press too hard on his stings. Louis fell asleep holding Harry close. And he definitely didn’t set an alarm.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.”

~Anne Frank

Louis woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through sheer, white curtains in a bed that was not his own. His body was wrapped around someone who snored quietly beside him. And his throat was absolutely parched.

As Louis surfaced through the grogginess in his mind, the events of last night flooded back to him: his date with Harry; the news that Maia had gone missing; a desperate race against the clock to find Maia and bring her home. Jellyfish. Darkness so palpable that Louis felt as if their boat sliced through it like a knife. A miraculous rescue. And Harry.

Louis was pressed close enough to Harry to feel tendrils of curls tickle his face. His arm was tucked around Harry’s waist, and their legs were tangled in the sheets. Louis peered over the curve of Harry’s back to glimpse a bottle of water beckoning on the bedside table. He gingerly extricated himself from Harry and slowly reached over him to grab the bottle of water. But Louis was still a few inches short. He stretched closer, trying not to disrupt Harry’s sleep, and his fingers barely brushed the water bottle. He didn’t realize Harry had ceased snoring until he spoke.

“I can reach that if you want it.”

Louis huffed and looked down at Harry to find him blinking at Louis in amusement.

“How long have you been awake?” Louis accused.

“Long enough to know you have short arms,” Harry replied with a sleepy grin.

“Were you just going to let me struggle forever, or?”

Harry snorted a laugh. “I just wanted to see what you would try next. Here,” he said, easily grabbing the bottle from the bedside table and handing it to Louis with a serene smile.

Louis pinched Harry on his bicep in retaliation and accepted the bottle. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“How’d you sleep?” Louis asked as he uncapped the bottle and took a sip.

“Good, considering,” Harry replied, gesturing to the faded stings on his body.

“Want some pain medicine?” Louis asked.

“Maybe in a minute,” Harry suggested, sitting up in bed. He stood and made his way to the en suite and shut the door with a quiet click. A few moments later, Louis heard water running. Then Harry emerged and walked back to the bed.

“Damn, Harry,” Louis murmured as he scanned Harry’s lean body with his eyes. The inflamed welts on Harry’s skin had faded a bit, and now Louis could see clear imprints of long tentacles across his body.

Harry glanced down at himself and hummed. “Look at it this way,” he mused. “It’ll be a great scar story if it doesn’t fade.”

“It scars?” Louis exclaimed.

Harry met Louis’ eyes and smiled. “Probably not. Just making sure you’re awake.”

“Mhm, ok. Keep talking and I’m cutting off your access to the drugs,” Louis warned.

Harry smiled brightly. “That was a trip, wasn’t it?”

Louis rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You know they sell that stuff over the counter, Harry.”

Harry’s expression brightened even more. “No kidding?”

“Not that you’re getting anymore,” Louis said in finality. “Now come here. Let me look at your stings in the light.”

Harry stepped close enough to kneel on the bed in front of Louis, and Louis scooted closer. He examined each small wound carefully, conscious of Harry’s eyes on him. Louis trailed his fingertips over one particularly painful-looking spot curving all the way around Harry’s torso, and Harry shivered.

“Sore?” Louis guessed.

“Sensitive, I guess.”

Suddenly, the air around Louis and Harry felt charged with a new tension. Louis traced his hands over most of the wounds lightly, feeling a rush of adrenaline when goosebumps broke out across the wide expanse of Harry’s skin. Louis’ heart fluttered as he tried to keep his hands steady.

“How’s it looking?” Harry asked. He was so close that Louis could feel his breath. Louis realized with a start that he was only in his pants as well. He felt his eyes glaze over and absently pressed his fingers into a spot on Harry’s torso.

Harry hissed in surprise. “Oh,” he said.

“Sorry,” Louis fretted. “Sorry, are you ok?”

Harry didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he carefully cupped Louis’ hand in his own, pausing Louis’ actions. Louis glanced up at Harry in alarm. To his surprise, Harry was smiling.

“Want to know my professional medical opinion?” he asked suggestively.

“I, sure,” Louis stammered. He couldn’t look away from Harry’s eyes.

Harry brought Louis’ hand up to his face and pressed a delicate kiss to Louis’ knuckles. “I think,” he continued with an enigmatic smile, “that you need a break from your doctoring.”

Louis quirked a smile. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Harry said, pressing closer to Louis. “You took very good care of me,” he praised, “and I’m feeling much better.”

“Good,” Louis whispered. His pulse began to race as Harry gently released his hand and instead curved it around Louis’ neck.

“Now,” Harry said in a whisper. “What would you like to do?”

“I,” Louis said breathlessly, “I t-think you should kiss me. Please.”

Harry’s expression softened and he smiled. “Like this?” he asked, leaning close enough to eliminate the gap between them. Harry kissed Louis softly, as he had been for the past few days.

A pleasant buzz spread through Louis’ body as he returned the kiss. When Harry pulled back moments later, Louis sighed.

“Or like this?” Harry continued. His grip tightened a fraction on Louis’ neck, and his thumb applied the hint of pressure on Louis’ throat. Louis could easily breathe still, but the suggestion had him gasping against Harry’s lips. Harry didn’t release his grip as he kissed Louis again. Louis’ head spun as Harry licked into his mouth with urgency. When Harry eased Louis back down onto the bed, Louis’ last coherent thought fled his mind.

Harry pulled back from the kiss long enough to murmur, “What do you like, Lou?”

Louis’ arms dropped helplessly against the bed with his hands to either side of his head. He opened his mouth to respond feeling dazed.

“I like this,” Louis replied softly. He was lying prone before Harry on the bed in a yielding position.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, hovering over Louis’ body. He grasped his hands loosely around Louis’ wrists and held them in place. “Like this?” Harry asked, tightening his grip gradually.

Louis’ breathing shallowed. “H-how did you know?” he rasped.

Harry stared into Louis’ eyes patiently. “I like it, too. I was just hoping,” he said as he bracketed Louis’ legs with his knees and sat on top of Louis’ thighs. Louis felt Harry’s thumbs stroke over the sensitive skin of his wrists back and forth and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Slow, ok?” Harry instructed. “You’ll tell me if you want to stop?”

Louis nodded, and Harry loosened his grip a bit. “Words, love.”

“I, ok,” Louis said. “I will.”

Harry smiled and tightened his hold on Louis’ wrists in reward. Louis held his breath in anticipation of what Harry would do next. Harry gingerly pulled Louis’ hands above his head and pressed his wrists together. Then he easily grasped both wrists in one hand. Harry trailed his other hand down Louis’ throat tantalizingly slowly, finally pressing his thumb there again. Wordlessly, Harry leaned in and pressed kisses to Louis’ face and neck. His lips skimmed over Louis’ pulse point and nibbled gently at the skin there, and Louis let out a deep sigh. When Harry trailed his lips down to Louis’ collarbone and traced them with his teeth, Louis whimpered in anticipation.

“Easy,” Harry whispered, tilting Louis’ chin up to claim his lips in a kiss. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Louis whispered back.

Harry pecked Louis’ lips once more and then gazed into his eyes. “I’m going to let go of your hands, Lou. Can you hold them still for me?”

“Yes,” Louis murmured.

“Good, sweetheart. Doing so well.”

Harry left a trail of sparks with his lips back down Louis’ neck and collarbone, and then dipped lower. The first brush of Harry’s lips on Louis’ nipple sent a jolt through Louis’ body. He sighed and felt his body melt into the bed as Harry flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud. When Harry began to stroke Louis’ other nipple with gentle fingers, Louis’ toes curled in pleasure. Harry zeroed in on the spot, pinching one nipple with his finger and thumb and skimming his teeth over the other. Louis felt wetness in his pants and realized his cock was leaking precome. He didn’t have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed. Not when Harry sucked a nipple into his mouth suddenly. Louis’ hips bucked up off the bed and he whined.

Harry paused to glance up at Louis’ eyes, and his lips slid off Louis’ nipple with a slick pop. “Ok?” he asked.

“I,” Louis replied, panting slightly, “I can come like this.”

“Do you want to?” Harry asked, still rolling and pinching Louis’ other nipple with nimble fingers.

“No,” Louis said.

“Good, darling,” Harry praised as Louis vocalized his thoughts. “Tell me what you want.”

Louis took a few breaths and stared into Harry’s eyes. “Want your mouth.”

“Mmm, where do you want it?” Harry asked, slowly kissing down Louis’ chest towards his stomach. “Here?”

“Almost,” Louis whispered.

“Where, Lou?” Harry asked.

“My cock,” Louis breathed as Harry kissed lower still to the waistband of Louis’ pants.

“Doing so well, sweetheart,” Harry said, and Louis realized with a jolt that he was using Louis’ sign name. Harry peeled down Louis’ pants without ceremony, and Louis had the presence of mind to lift his hips as Harry slid them all the way off and tossed them over the bed.

Louis would never forget the sensation of Harry’s mouth on his cock for as long as he lived. Harry still moved slowly, but each touch was electric. Louis held as still as he could when Harry darted out his tongue to lap at the tip of his cock where Louis was wet. There was a real possibility that Louis would come before Harry even went further, and Louis moaned. As if reading his mind, Harry pressed Louis’ hips down firmly with his hands in warning.

Louis balled his hands into fists to keep them in place. He tested Harry’s grip by flexing his hips, finding he couldn’t move an inch. Louis used all his willpower to relax back against the bed and let Harry take what he wanted. Harry felt Louis’ body relax under his hands and stroked reassuring thumbs over Louis’ hipbones. Then he licked a wet stripe up the underside of Louis’ cock and wrapped his lips around the head. At the first sensation of suction, Louis gasped. He looked down in amazement as Harry sucked him down inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. When Harry eased off his cock, licking and sucking around the head, Louis’ willpower was wavering, and his body was trembling with the effort to stay still. Harry wrapped a firm hand around the base of Louis’ cock and stroked it slowly as he spoke.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” Harry said in praise. “So gorgeous. Can you stay still for me, love?”

“Harry,” Louis fairly sobbed as Harry continued to pump his cock.

“Can you?” Harry pressed.

“Y-yes,” Louis said, gathering all his resolve to do as Harry asked.

Harry ducked his head to suck teasingly at the head of Louis’ cock, still stroking with his fist. He pulled back for a minute to speak one final instruction. “You can come when you want, sweetheart,” Harry encouraged.

Harry began sucking in earnest then, taking Louis further and further down until his green eyes watered. A familiar sensation began to build inside Louis, making his thighs tremble. Harry pushed another fraction further, and Louis felt the tip of his cock brush the back of Harry’s throat.

“Ah!” Louis cried out. “ _H-Harry_.”

Harry bobbed his head up and down until Louis was right on the edge. Louis’ eyes had almost fluttered closed when he felt Harry’s other hand cup Louis’ balls with a gentle squeeze. His eyes shot open in surprise, and one more glance at Harry’s face sent Louis flying.

“Fuck!” Louis shouted as he felt his orgasm wash over him, pulsing through his body over and over until Louis was whimpering. As he came down, Louis felt rather than saw Harry swallow, and the realization that Harry was swallowing Louis’ come made him collapse against the bed in surrender.

Harry eased off Louis’ cock slowly until he released it with slick lips. Louis watched in awe as Harry licked his lips. Harry was panting. Louis reached a trembling hand towards him, and Harry climbed up Louis’ body until they were face to face. Louis pulled him closer and pressed his mouth to Harry’s in a bruising kiss. When Harry pulled back, his eyes scanned Louis’ face in admiration.

“So good, sweetheart. So good for me,” Harry murmured, peppering Louis’ face with gentle kisses. When Louis eased Harry onto his back, Harry went willingly. He blinked slowly as Louis dragged his fingers down the plane of his chest and pulled his pants down until his cock bobbed free.

“Lou,” Harry breathed.

“I’ve got you, love,” Louis murmured with his lips at Harry’s ear. “Lube?”

Harry reached into a drawer on the bedside table to retrieve a bottle of lube.

Louis popped the cap on the bottle and drizzled some into his palm, He grasped Harry’s cock with his hand and continued speaking in Harry’s ear as he pumped steadily.

“Made me feel so good, H,” Louis confessed. “Made me feel safe.”

Harry whined quietly and rocked his hips up into Louis’ grip. Louis smiled and slowed his movements for a moment to rub the head of Harry’s cock with his thumb.

“Fuck,” Harry said, voice trembling. “Lou.”

Louis began stroking faster as he spoke. “So good, exactly what I like. Do you want to fuck me, H? Want to tie my hands and take me any way you want?”

Harry gasped and threw his head back against the bed. Louis never wavered in his movements. “Want me on my knees, love?” Louis continued relentlessly. “I’d be so good for you. Want to fuck my mouth?”

Harry couldn’t keep his body still anymore. His hips thrust to match Louis’ strokes. His breath came out in as harsh pants, and he chanted Louis’ name under his breath.

“You can take what you want, love. I want you to. But first I want you to come. Can you come for me, love?” Louis asked, speeding up his strokes.

Harry’s eyes widened at the pace. His body writhed on the bed, and Louis pumped his cock faster still.

“Give it to me, love,” Louis demanded, twisting his wrist experimentally, and that did it. Harry came with a gasp, spurting come onto Louis’ hand and his own chest. Louis watched as Harry’s hips lost their rhythm as his orgasm washed over him. Louis slowed his hand, only holding Harry’s wet cock loosely now as Harry came back to earth. Louis waited until Harry blinked his eyes open dazedly and stared at him, and then meticulously licked the come off his hand. Harry moaned, and his cock twitched in Louis’ hand at the sight. He fell back on the bed totally spent. Louis curled up at his side and felt his pulse gradually slow to a normal rate. When Harry wrapped an arm around Louis and pulled him closer, Louis smiled.

“Damn, Lou,” Harry mumbled. “Your mouth.”

“ _Your_ mouth,” Louis replied. “I’m never leaving this bed again.”

“Not even for breakfast?” Harry asked. “I’ll make you something.”

“I’m not cooking?” Louis asked in relief. “Thank god.”

Harry chuckled and pressed a kiss to Louis’ hair. “Come on, let’s take a shower.”

Louis smiled. “I suppose, in the interest of water conservation.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry replied. “Race you to the shower? On three.”

Louis groaned, anticipating where this was headed.

“One,” Harry said.

“Two,” Louis added. Then he jumped up from the bed and streaked towards the shower, giggling as he went.

“Touche,” Harry laughed, following Louis into the en suite.

“Come on, Harry,” Louis called teasingly over his shoulder. “I like it hot.”

Louis and Harry had just sat down to eat breakfast when Louis’ phone began to beep. He frowned, not recalling setting any alarms. When Louis glanced at the screen, his eyes lit up.

“Harry! Do you know what day it is?” Louis exclaimed.

“What day?” Harry asked.

“It the Shields’ anniversary surprise party day!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you ready?”

Louis thought it over for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks to you, Niall, and Zayn, I think we’re ready.”

Harry smiled. “You know what you need now?”

“What’s that?”

“A friendly photographer to document the event.”

Louis’ expression brightened even more. “Really? You mean…”

“I would love to be the Shields’ photographer,” Harry nodded happily.

“Harry, this is great,” Louis replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Harry winked. “Just tell me the time and place.”

Louis spent most of that morning organizing decorations and food with Zayn and Niall. The sky above was clear, with few clouds in the sky, promising a sunny day. The beach and bar were full of guests out enjoying the sunshine as Louis worked. Niall had proposed they extend an open invitation to the rest of the guests for the party. Zayn was in charge of the official itinerary, which Louis had written with glee. And their friend and bellhop, Henri, had been instructed to notify Louis when surprise guests arrived at the resort.

By the time lunch rolled around, Louis was sweating even in the shade. He was thankful that Zayn suggested they throw the party around sunset when the air cooled a bit. Niall coaxed Louis and Zayn into sitting down for half an hour to eat and rest. The three claimed a table together and kept Greg the bartender busy bringing them glass after glass of water. Conversation died down a bit as exhaustion set in for Louis, Zayn, and Niall. Louis’ feet were aching. Fresh freckles had appeared on Niall’s tan cheeks and arms from the sun exposure. Zayn appeared to be nodding off at the table.

“Alright, lads,” Louis said as he drummed his hands on the table. Zayn jolted awake at the sound. “What’s next on the itinerary?”

Zayn grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _not again_ as he unfolded the list on the table. Niall and Louis leaned in from either side as Zayn began checking items off the list.

“Balloons, check…sound system, check…cake, cutlery, napkins, check…party invitation covertly slipped under the Shields’ door, check…we’re almost there, Lou. When will Harry arrive?”

“Here!” Harry called from behind them. Louis turned to see Harry jogging slowly towards their table. He smiled at the sight of Harry’s purple polo shirt tucked into his white shorts. Harry arrived at the table, greeted Niall and Zayn, and then pulled up a chair next to Louis. He was slightly out of breath as he pressed a hand to Louis’ back and distractedly kissed Louis’ temple. Zayn and Niall exchanged sly grins at the sight, and Louis only blushed a little.

“We’re just going over the schedule for the day,” Louis said as he leaned closer to Harry.

“Great,” Harry said with a smile. “So what can I do?”

Zayn was still smiling mischievously between Louis and Harry, but mercifully didn’t comment. Instead, he checked the time on his phone and then passed Harry the list.

“Would you mind checking in with Byron and Jo to remind them about the party?” Zayn asked. “Be as creative as you want.”

“Sure, yeah,” Harry said with a bright smile. “When should I go?”

“We thought maybe around half an hour before sunset,” Niall replied. “And then you can bring them down to the party like you were heading that way yourself.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nodded. He absently rubbed circles on Louis’ back as he scanned the itinerary. Harry glanced up a moment later when he realized no one was talking. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked as he looked between Zayn and Niall and registered their wry smiles. “Why are you staring like that?”

Niall nodded between Harry and Louis with a knowing smile. “Anything you want to tell us, H?” he asked. “About Louis?”

Harry frowned slightly as he glanced at Louis’ face. Then he shrugged and turned back to an expectant Niall. “I have nothing to report, other than the fact that Louis snores.”

Louis’ jaw dropped as he slowly looked at Harry. Harry just bit back a grin and his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Excuse me?” Louis said incredulously. “ _I_ snore? I’m surprised you heard me over the sound of your own snoring. The nerve,” Louis hissed.

Harry grinned unrepentantly. “Was I snoring? Oh dear.”

Louis leveled Harry with a flat look and then turned to face Niall and Zayn. “I do not snore.”

Zayn smiled innocently at Louis. “If you say so.”

“ _Anyway,”_ Niall said before the bickering could continue, “we’re happy for you two, and we will have to leave it at that for now. We need to get back to work.”

Louis shared a look with Harry and then frowned at Niall. “Wait, who’s in charge here?”

Niall winked. “I believe I’m the captain of this ship,” he replied. “That’s why they call me Captain Niall.”

“Literally no one calls you that, Ni,” Harry said in amusement.

“It’ll catch on,” Niall said confidently. Then he stood up in finality. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”

Louis spared a thought for his manuscript which he hadn’t touched since yesterday. He imagined there would be no time until tomorrow to jump back into it. Louis tried to focus on the task at hand instead. Currently, that involved using a step ladder to hang balloons from the roof of the bar. Louis hummed along to the music playing through the bar speakers which he had insisted on choosing. He smiled fondly as Cascada sang his and Harry’s favorite song.

Sooner than he expected, it was time for Louis to dash back to his villa to change clothes. While the surprise party wasn’t formal by any means, Louis wanted to make a good impression. His phone rang, and Louis discovered it was Henri calling. He informed Louis that their special guests had arrived and were resting in their new villa. Louis thanked Henri and ended the call. Then he glanced out the window. The sky was beginning to turn brilliant shades of orange and pink, so Louis grabbed his phone and hurried down to meet his guests.

Harry texted five minutes later to say that he was escorting Byron and Jo down to the bar. He was right on time. Excitement buzzed through Louis’ veins as he led two surprise guests towards the party.

When Louis stopped at the curve in the pathway a small distance from the bar, he gave his guests final instructions. They nodded eagerly. Together, they watched Harry and the Shields’ come into view. Jo and Byron were dressed neatly in light shades of linen. Jo seemed surprised to see a crowd of guests and staff waiting at the bar with drinks. Louis could see her shocked expression when all the guests turned to face her and yelled _surprise_ and _happy anniversary._ Jo clutched Byron’s arm as they made their way down to the bar amidst congratulations and clapping. Harry guided them into the crowd and murmured something in Jo’s ear. He hugged Jo, then Byron, and then retrieved his camera from behind the bar to begin taking photos.

Niall managed the bar, mixing the signature cocktail he had created for the Shields. Zayn approached the couple and shook their hands. Then he led them to a table to reveal the cake Tony had insisted on making for the occasion.

Harry glanced around until he spotted Louis. He nodded, which was the signal for Louis to come to the bar. He took a deep breath and turned to face his guests.

“Ready?” he asked with a nervous smile.

“Ready,” two voices chirped in unison.

Louis offered his arm to hold, and then led them towards the bar. He saw the moment that Zayn whispered something in Jo’s ear and pointed towards Louis. One by one, all the guests turned to watch Louis approach the bar leading an elderly woman and a small child.

Louis knew the second Jo recognized Martha Wright. A shocked expression gave way to a few tears as Jo held onto Byron for support. By the time Louis wove through the crowd towards the surprised couple, Jo was smiling. Martha stepped closer towards her old friend and opened her arms for a hug. Louis was suddenly grateful that Harry was photographing this moment. It was a reunion twenty years in the making, possibly for the last time.

When Martha pulled back to wipe her own eyes, she reached for Byron and hugged him as well. Jo appeared to be transfixed as Martha introduced the young girl by her side, a granddaughter named Laura. She greeted Laura with a watery smile and then looked back at Martha. That was the moment that Martha pulled two photos out of her pocket and hesitantly offered them to Jo.

Louis knew the first photo was a snapshot of Jo and Byron’s wedding day. Jo took the photo with wide eyes and then gasped. Her delicate hands trembled a little as she looked at Martha with tears in her eyes. Then Martha handed Jo the second photo, which was a print of her last anniversary with Jack.

Martha murmured something to Jo and Byron as she shared the photo, and it brought a fresh wave of tears to Jo’s eyes. It was a bittersweet moment as Martha and Jo embraced again. Louis took that moment to join their small circle. He offered his hand to Byron, and Byron pulled him into a brief, crushing hug.

“Thank you,” Byron said. “Truly.”

Louis nodded and smiled. When Jo turned towards Byron a few seconds later, she saw Louis.

“How…how did you manage this?” Jo asked with a wavering voice, enveloping Louis into an embrace. “How is this real?”

Louis smiled when Jo released him. “Happy anniversary,” he said simply.

Jo looked from Byron to Martha to Louis incredulously. Then she wiped her eyes and smiled. “I don’t know what to say,” she confessed.

“Say you’d like to cut the cake,” Byron teased gently.

Jo laughed. “I certainly would. Lead the way.”

Niall paused his work at the bar to lead the crowd in a hearty rendition of the happy birthday song, only with the word anniversary instead. Jo and Byron gazed across the faces in the crowd in awe. Zayn began cutting the vanilla and buttercream cake and handed the first slice to Jo. Harry hovered around the perimeter of the crowd snapping photos. All Louis could do was smile in relief as the sun set across the bay, bathing everything in a soft glow. As word of the reunion spread through the crowd, many guests took turns congratulating Byron and Jo. Louis would never forget the way Jo’s eyes shined for as long as he lived.

Most of the guests had filtered out when Byron approached Louis looking exhausted but happy.

“I can’t begin to repay you for this, Louis,” Byron said.

Louis smiled. “I don’t want you to, sir. It’s a gift from all of us.”

Byron returned Louis’ smile. “Thank you. Jo’s worn out, so I’m taking her back in a minute. She hasn’t left Martha’s side all evening. I haven’t seen her this joyful in a while.”

Louis nodded, feeling pleased. “I’ve invited Martha and Laura to spend the next few days at the resort. Hopefully, Jo will enjoy the time.”

“She will, believe me,” Byron replied. “You’re a good one, Louis Tomlinson,” he said. “Tell your friends, too. And now I’ll say goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Louis echoed with a warm smile.

Byron turned to walk away, then paused. He glanced back at Louis with a small smile. “You’ve helped make this trip the time of our lives, you know. We’ll always cherish this gift you gave us. Always tell the ones you love how you feel. Goodnight.”

Louis gave a small nod and smiled. Harry caught his eye across the bar then, hands full of decorations. He appeared to be covered in confetti, oddly. Harry smiled at Louis, and Louis felt the warmth of it all the way across the bar. Harry winked and resumed cleaning up the party. Louis smiled as he turned away and began clearing plates from the tables. _Cherish,_ Byron had said a moment ago. There was that word again. Thoughts of his mother ran through Louis’ mind then, and they were happy memories. Louis felt a familiar pang of loss, but happiness smoothed over the feeling now.

Louis was amazed by his own discipline when he arrived back at his villa and didn’t fall right into his bed. Instead, he walked on weary feet to his laptop on the dining table and sat down. Louis felt a sense of peace as he opened his manuscript and began to type. The words flowed from his mind in steady waves. The more Louis wrote, the quieter his scattered thoughts became. Eventually, the only thing he registered was the click of his fingers on the keyboard. When his doorbell rang minutes or hours later, a smile spread across Louis’ face. He walked through the villa to open his door. Harry stood on the other side of the threshold, leaning against the door frame. His shirt was rumpled and untucked, and his hair was disheveled. But his expression was warm when he met Louis’ eyes.

“Hi,” Harry said.

“Hi,” Louis repeated softly, content to stand there forever admiring Harry.

Harry raised his hand, revealing a familiar-looking black binder. He smiled. “Had a hunch you’d be awake. Can I work here for a while?”

 _I love you,_ Louis thought suddenly as the final piece of the puzzle locked into place.Certainty flowed through Louis’ body at the realization. Louis remembered Harry was waiting for a response, and he eventually nodded and spoke.

“Sure, come on in. I’m just writing.”

Louis led Harry through the villa to the dining table and gestured for him to sit down. Harry placed his portfolio neatly on the table and began pulling out forms as he sat down. He picked up a pen, then paused.

"I almost forgot; we have a lead on our photo leak," Harry said. 

"Really?" Louis asked, perking up.

"Yeah," Harry continued. "Security traced the use of access codes to the video surveillance we set up. Turns out, someone has been using my access code to to snoop."

"Shit," Louis breathed. "Who is it?"

"Our soon-to-be former bartender, Greg Smith. He's also been spotted at odd places around the resort lately with no explanation. We're going to talk with him tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know."

Louis' head spun at the information. Greg, the polite bartender? Damn. "Um, thank you," Louis stammered. "Wow."

Harry smiled grimly and nodded. "I'm just sorry you guys had to go through that." 

Louis shook his head in wonder and watched from the corner of his eye as Harry started filling in a form without ceremony. Louis settled into his seat and poised his fingers above his keyboard to get back to work.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Louis glanced at Harry and realized his watch was ticking aloud. Harry worked on steadily, probably used to the sound by now. Louis cracked a smile.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Louis finished typing a sentence and rested his fingers for a moment. He was overcome with calmness and a quiet joy looking at Harry. Harry was still bent carefully over the stack of forms writing. With a start, Louis realized he was nearing the epilogue of his story. He paused, trying to capture the feeling his character Miles had as Aaron took his hand and whispered the three words that had been flickering through Louis’ mind for the last hour.

Louis smiled and looked at Harry. “Hey, Harry?” he asked quietly, reluctant to disturb the quiet.

“Yeah?” Harry answered as he glanced up at Louis, dropping his pen on the table.

“How are you doing?” Louis said while his mind yelled a steady chorus of _I love you._

Harry smiled back, his expression open and calm. He seemed to consider Louis’ words carefully. Louis realized he was holding his breath in suspense.

“I’m really happy, Lou. I feel hopeful, too.”

Louis released the breath he was holding. He suspected Harry was talking about more than job applications or internships.

“How are you?” Harry asked, gazing into Louis’ eyes.

Louis mulled over the words for a moment, finally acknowledging the mix of emotions he was feeling: happiness at the success of the party; devotion and love for his mother beginning to overcome the dull ache of loss; exhaustion. And over everything, enveloping his thoughts like an embrace, was hope. It anchored Louis securely in the present and cast a promising light on the future. It was a future of writing and family and more _I love you_ s than he could count.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Louis blinked back sudden tears and smiled. “Hopeful,” he told Harry.

Harry’s eyes never wavered from Louis’ as he reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. For a moment, he appeared to be content just looking at Louis. Louis saw the same determination and emotion shining in Harry’s eyes as he held Harry’s gaze. He saw the same promise. The same love.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Harry wordlessly lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Louis’ hand. When he released it, Harry smiled to himself and turned back to the applications in front of him.

Louis could only smile as he focused his eyes back on the screen. He reread the words he had written moments ago.

_Miles finally let the words out that he had been holding onto for days. Aaron met his eyes with a soft smile, and Miles had never felt so…_

That was where Louis had stopped. He glanced once more at Harry, just to find Harry was already staring back at him. Louis thought about all the talks with Harry, all the music and fun, all the kisses, and all the quiet moments in between. Then he typed the final word and quietly closed the laptop with a nod.

_…cherished._

_Tick. Tick. Tick._


End file.
